Less than two weeks after the go-ahead had been given and the site selected for the 'Agamar Oval' was now a frenzied hive of activity. Not that it looked much like a construction site at the moment, more like one of those 'Great Delve' extravaganzas that the University's Xenoarchaeology Department, in association with Agamar Holocasting's 'Epoch Squad' programme, liked to put on from time to time. As if the University hadn't already got enough storerooms full of corroded, useless, junk! Samples came to the surface with every ploughing! It almost never went on public display, either, certainly not the finds from the 'Infinite Empire' period; as most sentients found them to be disturbing. Only static holographs were normally resident in those display cases.

Palpatine's minions had been very interested in the 'junk' though. Although their prime task had been to seize or delete information on the ('traitorous') Jedi, they had 'requisitioned' a large part of the 'Infinite Empire' collection. The choicest (best preserved and most intact) examples had been taken away to an undisclosed destination, never to be seen again.

Doubtless it was the chance to search through an absolutely undisturbed volume of the planet that had got the University people, and others, so fired up. It was hoped that (as had happened once before) an intact Stasis Box would be recovered. Or the prize of prizes, a sealed vault or bunker full of pristine artefacts, still in-situ, would be found. Not that other, less pristine, finds were being ignored; every scrap of 'spoil' that was being removed from the 'trench' (if that was an appropriate word for an excavation that measured 500m x 400m and was destined to go down to a depth of 50 metres, unless the diggers hit bedrock first) was being carted away to another area where it was sifted through finer and finer screens, in search of anything the sensors had missed. And that hole was just to accommodate the Stadium! Work on other buildings in the complex, most of which would also need sub-levels, albeit not as deep, hadn't even started yet!

They were making good progress too! Once the sensors had cleared an area to a certain depth, the machines were sent in to dig it out to that safe level; but when the sensors did detect something of interest, that location was marked to be dug by hand. Hover-cams showed the hand-digging teams (including Professor of Xenoarchaeology Dua Juun, herself) on hands and knees, furiously scraping away with their trowels and really making the dirt fly until they got near to the object (whatever it was) and needed to exercise caution. Once painstakingly exposed, the object was then sketched, holographed and its exact position precisely recorded in three dimensions, before being equally carefully lifted and taken away for cleaning, conservation and more holographs of its external and (where possible) internal structure. However, even with these hiccups in the work, they'd still got down nearly two metres, more in places, over the entire area! An impressive feat!

Unfortunately, all the Senior Students and Faculty members that were rumoured to know something about the alleged Protest Group were working the 'trench' (even sleeping on-site) and so were not available to be asked about it. The 'trench' itself was also off-limits to unauthorised personnel due to the accident-potential involving the heavy machinery operating down there and possible damage to yet unexposed and uncleared artefacts. That put finding out about the alleged group on hold for the foreseeable future.

Some of the 'spoil' would be retained for re-use under the pitch, on top of the 10 metre duracrete 'raft' that the whole Stadium would sit on. The rest was being given away to whoever wanted it. Tim had taken to wearing his Packers' outerwear top while visiting the site (alternating the two strip colours day-by-day), and numbers of Agamarians would come and chat to him. It turned out that one such group (wanting topsoil and subsoil that had never known Binka) were some of the earliest immigrants to Agamar. Displaced from a planet named Quiilura during the Clone Wars, they had continued farming Merlies on one of the minor continents, but had always been looking for a way to restart their main cash crop of Barq; which with Binka-free soil in permacrete trough 'fields' might become possible. Their problem had been to obtain enough clean soil for a trial-run; and now they would be able to.

Checking-in with Oleg, Tim found that he was far less concerned about the visit of the Mando'ade Mercs than he was with that of Ylesia Lightning the following week. The Mandalorians would only start trouble if either someone paid them to do so or if their Mand'alor ordered them to. While no one with any sense messed with Mandalorians (as the saying advised), Agamarians known to be without that commodity would be 'baby-sat' by ASF Officers for the duration of the visit. At least officially, new Mand'alor Taab would not be visiting. Not that that meant much, as all Mandolorians wore their trademark armour most of the time; a change into nondescript armour would virtually guarantee that Taab would not be recognised by ASF, possibly not even by his own people, if he did decide to attend.

The Lightning (and most particularly their supporters) were a problem of a different order. No one knew if some of the violence-prone segment of their society would be mingling with the Lightning's supporters. No one knew how the Lightning's supporters would react if their team went down to the Packers (representatives of a mostly Human world) particularly if the defeat was a bad one. Also, no one knew if any of Agamar's Human population would take exception to the effective 'species-cleansing' that had taken place on Ylesia and attack the Lightning supporters in retaliation. Finally, no one knew exactly where the non-Human University Students and Faculty members stood on the issue. Oleg, too, had been unable to find out anything about the rumoured 'Protest Group'. Concerning, to say the least!

One thing both could agree on, the normal practice of selling tickets in the Visiting Supporters' areas to Agamarians would be withdrawn for the match against the Lightning. No point in mixing Oxygen and Hydrogen! That combination might not even need a spark to set it off!

The suspicious behaviour of the Packers former owner was apparently also a false lead. Yes, he did want to keep out of the Media spotlight. Yes, he didn't want off-worlders getting all that good a look at him. Both of those in case his distinctive appearance (an age-related family trait) was recognised and compromised his sanctuary on Agamar. Yes, he was no longer using his original family name - none of the family had for over two hundred years. Those things were the price the family had paid for being near-direct descendants of one of the most notorious beings in Galactic history. The family had tried to atone for the crimes committed by that monster, they really had but years of loyal service to the Alliance and the New Republic could not even begin to compensate for the mass-murder, slavery and even planet-killing! All of them done to further his ambition, to stroke his ego! All done without a thought for the family name, which was still as reviled today as it had been when his crimes had come to light. The Packers' former owner had never married or had children; his one remaining relative was a nephew who he hoped would join him on Agamar (safe from those still intent on vengeance) in the not too distant future. No, the Galaxy had not been kind to those of that lineage, the indelibly tainted lineage, originally bearing the name of 'Tarkin'!

As Tim's family had itself been forced into hiding, he found that explanation plausible. In any case, he'd never been much of a fan of the notion that wrongs (and those were major wrongs) committed by an ancestor should cast a pall over succeeding generations. It was what one did oneself that should determine how one was regarded. To do otherwise was a form of stereotyping and Agamarians knew a great deal about that!

After much searching, the team had finally got hold of a team roster for the Mercs, though how accurate it was (particularly the reserves section) was unknown. An impressive lineup, Tim thought, though it didn't explain the comments he had seen recently (in HSN's 'What We Learned' column) about half their team being 300 years old!

This was going to be a tough game, to be sure, but if the Force (and he didn't mean the team from Thyferra) was with the Packers, they might just be able to pull off another shock win!

On entering the Owner's Box, he noted that someone (probably Oleg) had arranged to have the door replaced with a Blaster-resistant version. Also that it now sported a heavy-duty bolt to secure it from the inside! Well, those should keep future uninvited visitors where they belonged, he thought with a wry smile!

Meredith Chambers approached the podium, waved to the cheering crowd, adjusted the reading glasses that now rested delicately on her nose, cleared her throat, and paused as she scanned her notes. There was time to reflect, there was time to savor this moment, her final goodbye to the sporting world that she had helped shape, that she had helped influence and that she had made better by simply giving her all.

She looked a little older, a little out of shape, but her eyes still held that terrifying fire that made the enemy quake in their cleats once upon a time. That fire that could help rally a team around her for a thrilling second half victory. That fire that so often had been accompanied by the roars and shouts of the Smuggler faithful seeing their veteran leader bring them home another Galactic Cup. But those days were gone now. There could be no more victories at Six Boroughs, no more fierce battles with storied rivals, no more drinks raised in her honor, not for her, anyways.

Now, there was a silence, a silence that seemed to say in all the ways that mattered that her time had come and gone. At first, that took a little getting used to for Chambers. She had found it difficult to sit on the couch while the off-season workouts were being conducted, her muscles leaping at the chance to prove that they still had it in them for one more grueling season. Once the regular season kicked off, she felt that old bite return, that old desire to suddenly show up at Six Boroughs and play for the team that had become more of a family to her than her own. And then she would hear the announcers talk about the starting lineup for the Smugglers, see young kids in the stands wearing jerseys that were not her own, and like those veteran players who had come and gone before her, she understood why they had distanced themselves from the organization after they retired. Now she finally understood. It wasn’t that the players stopped caring, or even that the fans stopped caring about them, it was simply that it hurt too damn much to have put so much energy into something and know in the deepest place of your soul that the game had passed you by, that you were too old, too slow, too useless, to be needed on the greatest stage the galaxy had ever known.

Many veterans couldn’t make that transition from professional athlete to real world salary person. She had made that transition but others, like Mithus Sekel, had taken their lives prematurely, unable to cope, unable to live any other life that did not involve Limmie, unable to face the real world, the world beyond professional sports.

Meredith had begun preparing for life after Limmie shortly before announcing her retirement at the start of the 273 season. She had put out feelers with the non-profit Valor Foundation and secured a part-time job with the organization that would enable her to help train underprivileged youth in the greatest sport of them all. Not only did she teach them valuable skills such as team-work and cooperation, perseverance and dedication, but how to be responsible citizens as they matured into adulthood.

No amount of Salbukk awards, no amount of Numifolis awards, no amount of Galactic Cup victories could ever come close to helping a child make intelligent, smart, choices that helped change their life from one of crime and incarceration to one of success and personal fulfillment. That made her day worthwhile, seeing a young kid smile who had a rough start, and that made her life worthwhile, knowing that there was a place for her in the galaxy beyond the pitch. Meredith continued to put in time at the Valor Foundation even after having twins and working as a goalkeeper coach for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers.

Now, here she was, sometime later, standing before ‘The Crew’, old and young fans alike, wearing the jacket given to all Hall of Fame inductees. She had earned her stripes. She had earned this, fair and square. And Maker, did it feel good. She cleared her throat again, eyes misting up before she had even begun to speak, the crowd responding with loads of applause and cheers. This was a special day for them as well. She caught glimpses of former teammates Sasha Luy’kin, Gunba Pemiti, John Huntington, and Helena Forsythe. People she had grown close to over the years. People she cared about deeply.

And then there was her husband, Polis Vayne, the man who had once knocked her unconscious. They’d joked about it a lot afterwards, especially on their first date, and had grown very close in Chambers’ last season. That year was a long one of recovery and contemplation for Meredith and in an interview Chambers had given Carly Fyres after she retired, she was asked what had kept her going that season.

“Polis Vayne,” was her response.

As she took one last look at the crowd before beginning her speech, Meredith saw several faces that she had not expected, but made her smile all the same. There was Alana Glencross, “Red”, giving her a knowing and understanding nod. The two had grown very close in the years after the 270 All Star Limmie game on Bespin. Though they maintained a vicious and challenging on field rivalry, off the field they had grown to admire one another and become friends. Meredith was proud to call Alana a friend, a woman she respected and admired for her tenacious play, for her giving heart, and for that thick red mane that still reeked of Gundarkade. Even Corrie Andersen had shown up for the day’s events. The two women, older and wiser, had buried the proverbial hatchet between them in the years after Chambers retirement. That meant something to Meredith and that said a lot about the league and what it really stood for: fellowship.

“Wow, what a thrilling moment in my life! Today, I stand before you as an athlete about to enter one of the most hallowed halls in the entire galaxy, the Limmie Hall of Fame! My journey today would not have been complete without the wonderful guiding hand of Rhia Grames, Tover Micjaa, and Luc Everoux, who took a woman like me and made her into a star. Thank you, thank you!”

Gentle applause.

“For 12 years I played in the league. I experienced the glories of raising the Galactic Cup high above my head and the ignominious stench of defeat. I played with and against some of the best players of my generation who challenged me every day to do my very best. Some of them I have grown close to over the years, others, well, we still hate one another. But I wouldn’t trade any moment, any goal, any experience, for my time with the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. I did something special when I played for the Burgundy and Black, something that I don’t think can ever be repeated. But that would never have happened without wonderful teammates, who carried me when I fell, and trusted me to lead them to victory when they stumbled and lost hope.

“Being inducted into the Limmie Hall of Fame is a dream come true. It is a true honor. I am proud to be joining the ranks of other Smuggler greats such as Rhia Grames and Tover Micjaa. I hope one day little boys and little girls will look upon my bronze bust and ask their fathers and mothers what I was like, what I accomplished, why I was chosen to represent the beautiful city of Nar Shaddaa in these hallowed grounds. Tell them, parents of today, parents of tomorrow, tell them that I gave my all and asked for little, that I learned the true meaning of sacrifice and camaraderie and that if you can dream it than go for it, believe in yourself, and succeed. Nobody can stop you but yourself. Realize that and the galaxy will be at your fingertips. Realize that and you will all be Galactic Cup champions.

“I’ve played in the storied grounds of Stoney End Park, Bakura Gardens, Euceron Stadium, Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, Meshla’Vhetin, and countless other venues around the galaxy. But none of them call to me, none of them resonate as deeply, as my time in Six Boroughs. As my time in front of my fans who have traveled far and wide to see me go where few players have gone before. I am truly thankful for all of your love, for everything and not a day goes by where I do not remember the gloried days I shared playing for you. I will close tonight with something I wrote not so very long ago, something from the heart, something that only an old Limmie warrior will understand. Bear with me,” Meredith said as she pulled a crumpled piece of flimsi out of her pocket.

Now she was in tears. Now she couldn’t hold back. Now she knew that the end had finally come. This was it for her. There could be no more Limmie, not the way she knew it, not the way she loved it, and a quiet voice inside her mind told her that this was how it had to be. She had to pass on her knowledge, her experience, and her legend to future generations. That was how it had always been and that was the way it would always be. That was the price one paid to be elite, the price of immortality, the price of a bust and a holographic image on Empress Teta.

She spread out the paper and began to read through her tears, "The first thing I do when I get out of bed and feel the jolt in my knees I think of Alana Glencross. On the second step, my chest starts throbbing, and I think of Polis Vayne. A few more steps in the dark and it’s Ryi Kor’le. By the time I get to the bathroom, I'm flashing back to Dirxx Horstse and Dawn Solo-Undolo. And when the light finally comes on, I just hope that somewhere in the darkness they're thinking of me, too.”

“Thank you.”

Tag: No One

OOC: Hopefully
@Trieste will be lenient with the mention of his characters presence. And the quote about getting out of bed is from the great Dolphin Larry Czonka, so, just giving credit where its due.Therefore, this is most likely going to be the last post I ever do that is entirely Meredith-centric. What a journey, what a great experience, writing a character like her. One in a million.

What had happened to the amazing defense that had shut out the Mercs just last week? Lucie watched in despair as Galaxy Defender allowed balls to fly right by him and put points on the board for the Monarchs. She felt powerless by halftime. The Starkillers were losing. Lucie longed to be back in Ralltiir at Bankers Stadium with fans her squad could help energize for the Starkillers to turn this game around. The offense was keeping it close the halftime score was 15-17, but trailing was not a good thing, especially when you were playing a team without a single win.

It wasn’t until there were only a few minutes left on the clock that the Starkillers finally took a one point lead. At that point Galaxy Defender seemed to turn into a different player. The man in the goal was once again the man who had blocked so well just a week earlier. The Monarchs offense gave it everything they had, but no matter how far out of reach the ball seemed Galaxy Defender was able to be there to stop it. In the final seconds Loren Jul scored one last goal for the Starkillers and they had a solid four point win.

Lucie rushed back to the locker room after the game to gather her belongings. The trouble with road games was having to share with the team. No other team in the league had a dance squad and they never had a private room to stash their stuff when the Starkillers played on the road. The first thing Lucie noticed was a message from her mother on her datapad. She had been avoiding contacting her mother all week and it was obvious her mother was doing the same. She had chosen to leave a message during the game when she knew Lucie would not be there to reply back immediately. It was a short text, Lucie opened the file and found two words: How’s Justyne?

She had no time to think of a reply. Several Limmie players rushed into the locker room, whooping and hollering in celebration. She stuffed her belongings into her travel bag quickly and headed for the shuttle where she could have some relative peace, at least until take off.

As she was leaving several reporters followed the Starkillers into the locker room. The only undefeated team left in the league they were now big news all over the galaxy. It was no surprise that they wanted to hear from Galaxy Defender Unanimous who was willing as always to take their questions.

“Were you concerned at any time during the game that you wouldn’t pull off the win?” The first reporter asked.

“Gentle beings,” Galaxy Defender began addressing the group of reporters as one. ”The Starkillers have won every game since I became a starter. There is no reason for concern, ever, as long as I am in the game.”

“What type of preparations will you be making for the upcoming game against the Senators?”

“The game plan is simple, we are going to win.” Galaxy Defender answered. “Now if you will all excuse me, I think you will find that the Senators are the ones who are good at long speeches. The Starkillers excel at winning Limmie games.”

The shuttle, at least for a few minutes was nice and quiet. A few other dancers came on board and selected seats, Lucie sat staring at her datapad deep in thought. She began to write back.

Justyne has been attending classes. She’s also invited friends over to my apartment and seems to be keeping down most of the food she eats. Mom, on the outside Justyne appears to be fine, but I am concerned for her. She is pretending that her body isn’t changing and is not making any preparations for the coming baby. When I was born you had Dad. Justyne doesn’t have anyone; she confided in me that the father of her baby is in a detention center. Apparently those charges he was brought in for a few months ago were not the first to be brought against him. He’s also older than Bat and was not let off so easily. We need to put aside our differences and help Justyne. Are you willing to do that?

She sent the message before she could change her mind. Seconds later the shuttle began to fill with players, coaches and the remaining dancers. All the commotion on the shuttle would normally be a little much for Lucie, but it proved to be a good distraction. Shortly after take-off she got an incoming text on her datapad. To her relief it was not from her mother. It was from Ty. He complimented her work on the field and she complimented his. The conversation was fun and light. The best part was she didn’t even have to be discreet. Everyone on the shuttle was too busy celebrating to notice. As the shuttle landed Ty asked Lucie to meet her at a caf shop a few blocks from the landing pad.

Ty was all smiles when he arrived at the caf shop. “Thanks so much for coming” he said. He leaned down and kissed her cheek before he sat down across the table from her. “I’m afraid this week is going to be super busy with a game against the Senators on the horizon. I wanted to make sure you know that I care about you and that if you don’t hear from me until after the game it’s not because I’m not thinking about you.”

“I understand.” Lucie replied. “I have a feeling my own week could be a bit busier than normal as well.”

“You have some time now? I know it’s late, but I’d like to spend some time with you.”

Lucie agreed. They ordered drinks and sandwiches. Ty asked what Lucie had been up to outside of her endeavors with the dance team. To her surprise Lucie opened up to Ty. She told him everything from Justyne arriving at her apartment with luggage intending to stay up until the message she received from her mother after the game.

“So do you think you will hear from your mother again?” Ty asked.

“I hope so.” Lucie said. “It would be nice to have my apartment back and even nicer to know my sister and her baby are in good hands. This may be hard to believe considering I left at home at such a young age, but my mother can be a good mom. The only thing I haven’t forgiven her for is that she never contacted me all this time since I left. A big part of me hopes that my own relationship with my mother can begin to mend now. Is that selfish?” She asked. “I know this is supposed to be about my sister.”

Ty assured Lucie she wasn’t being selfish. They finished their sandwiches and Ty walked Lucie home. They shared a lengthy embrace outside her building. “Too bad for you my sister is upstairs,” Lucie said with a sly smile. “I just might ask you up.”

“Hopefully one day you will.” Ty said as he let her out of his grasp. He squeezed her hand gently one last time before she finally let go and headed to her apartment.

The next afternoon just before dance team rehearsal Lucie got a call from her father. He explained that her mother wanted to talk and he was hoping to arrange for Lucie to meet with both her parents for dinner that night.

Lucie agreed. She let Justyne know she wouldn’t be back to the apartment for dinner. She decided not to tell her sister why, since she wasn’t sure how things would turn out and didn’t want to stir up unnecessary trouble. When she arrived at the restaurant her father had chosen and saw her parents waiting Lucie was taken back. They looked like the happy couple she remembered from her childhood. She wasn’t nearly as nervous as she thought she would be.

“Sorry I’m a bit late” she greeted. “I did my best to wrap up dance practice as early as possible.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Her father insisted. “Have a seat.”

Lucie took a seat and began to look over the menu. “Is Justyne eating a healthy diet?” Lucie heard her mother ask.

“I haven’t been paying that much attention.” Lucie started “but yes I think so.”

“Has she been taking the vitamins the doctor prescribed?”

Lucie shrugged. “You really need to ask Justyne these questions.” She heard herself say. She raised her head and looked directly at her mother. “You know when I left what hurt more than any of the fights we had before I left was the fact that you never once called to make sure I was okay.”

Both of her parents were quiet for a while. Finally Lucie’s mother said something Lucie never thought she would hear her mother say “I’m sorry.” After another long pause she said it again. “I’m sorry I tried to stop you from being a dancer. I’m sorry I let you leave and I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. I want you to know that I think you have become a wonderful dancer. And if you can forgive me please help me get Justyne back before I make all those mistakes again.”

“It’s not going to be easy, but I will try.” Lucie replied. She agreed to go home that evening and speak to her sister. Hopefully it would help convince Justyne to move back home if she knew Lucie and her mother were talking again. The rest of dinner went smoothly. Lucie headed home with a confidence she hadn’t felt since she was promoted to captain of the dance team.

Justyne was already asleep when she got there, so she wasn’t able to speak to her until the following evening. “I met with mom and dad last night” she said as her and Justyne sat down for dinner.

“And I want to know you are going to visit.” Justyne looked at her sister with more seriousness in her eyes than Lucie had seen since she arrived a week ago. “I’ve missed you Lucie and I don’t want you to leave my life again.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Lucie replied. “Don’t worry I’m not going to miss the birth of my niece or nephew.”

“I guess it’s settled than.” Justyne said as if just now her life was taking a huge turn in a new direction. “Can we go tonight? I don’t want to put it off.”

After dinner Lucie helped her sister gather her belongings and called an air taxi. Richard, Bat, Spencer and Tomas were all happy to see their sister arrive home. Even their mother was in the front room of the house waiting to greet them. Lucie left feeling satisfied that her sister would stay. She promised to be back later in the week for a visit and headed home for some much needed rest.

It had been nearly a year. Nearly a year since Dirxx Horstse, the former captain of the Coruscant Senators Limmie franchise, had ended his playing career. It had not been the way he had wanted to go out, with a loss, a painful one, one his team should have had in their wheelhouse but failed to execute. He had seen so many greats of the game finish off their careers in the same way, falling just short of the ultimate prize that would inscribe their names for eternity, the Galactic Cup of Limmie. He had his name inscribed on there twice, but those hadn’t meant as much as a third, in his last season, for his last game, would have been. There were some who said that his teams couldn’t finish, that a .333 winning percentage in the Finals wasn’t much to look at or brag about.

But it had also been nearly a year since he had been named to the team Hall of Fame. He had not only joined the ranks of the Senator greats, such as Numifolis, Rysowt, Perkins, Stenwart, and Givens, but he had also been able to join his father, Dain Horstse, who had fueled his drive to be as much a man and Limmie player as he had been back in the day, in the ring of fame. His number was also retired that same day, the number 12 never again to be worn by a player in the orange and black in reverence to the great player who had once donned it. And to its place in the ring of fame at Andromeda, right next to his father’s name. That had meant everything to him, and was his ultimate achievement. He had made history in his career, and had the planet, and Senators fans all over the galaxy, on his side. Surely he couldn’t have hoped for more. A player coming out of his father’s shadow, still perturbed by his loss at a tender age, graduating and going pro from National University, not exactly a Limmie powerhouse, and somehow landing a spot on the Senator squad. He had always wanted that, but when the time came for him to lead, he had been questioned. He’ll never be as good as his father, the critics said. He was too soft, too goofy, not athletic enough, not good enough, to lead the Senator franchise that Dain had once helmed as captain. There was no chance he would ever see the Galactic Cup Finals, let alone the playoffs, with a squad that was full of castoffs, and local players who were not deemed good enough to man the ship. There were rumors circulating that a new commissioner would spell the doom of the beleaguered franchise, a demotion to the Premier League or worse, an insult to the greats of days long-gone.

But that hadn’t happened. Somehow, against all odds, with someone who had never played a rep of Limmie in his life having re-built the team and taken its helm, with a coach who hadn’t worked at this level for very long, with a roster still full of young players, he had done something special. He had held his ground against all comers. They had lost their first two games, and things looked dire. But then they had won a game, then the next, and another, followed by yet another. What had been a mess of a team to start the season began to gel, and soon the team was in the playoffs. This won’t last, the critics now said. But it did. Only when the Senators, the team projected to finish last in the League yet again, lifted the Cup over their heads in victory did the critics stay quiet.

And they would stay quiet. The Senators had struck a chord with the fanbase once more. The stadium filled up, the black and orange came out of hiding, and the team showed improvement. They made the playoffs repeatedly, not even stopping when the team was kidnapped by pirates on their relentless drive to the playoffs. The stars had been missing, but the next generation of young players, the Jerek Deters, Izzi Polakayas, the Kev Flystos, of the team came together and won despite long odds. They had not won a title that season, nor the next, missing the playoffs entirely, but the foundation was there.

268 was not a season where the Senators were expected to compete for the Cup. But, as they had done once before, they proved the critics wrong and held the Cup aloft once more. It would be the last time the team had done so, but it meant everything to all of the players on the roster.

Now, looking back on everything, perhaps Dirxx had done something special in his career. He had led a defensive unit that never flashed complete dominance, but was always under-the-radar. Teams coming in knew that they would have to float through a mound of muscle to get to the goal when they played Coruscant. It had lent rise to a moniker that had stuck with the trio of defenders that had made the Senator defense tick all those years, one that gave opponents pause when planning for their game. The Senators were arguably the best team of the Era, consistently winning games and making the playoffs. Sure he could have won more titles. He knew that he could easily have four, if not five, rings in his trophy chest from Cup wins. Now that didn’t matter. Only his personal achievement did. And that had been pretty damn good.

The main question at this point was not what he had done on the field, but what he had done off of it. Had he been an effective role model during those days? He had brought fame to Senators Limmie, sure, but what was his legacy now that he wasn’t wearing the uniform anymore? Had he done everything he could? Yes, he had been nominated for a Duchess Eldin, which was supposed to signify that he had at least some off-field panache. But was it enough, could he have done more if he tried? He had symbolized all that was right with the underdog story, taking an underdog team to glory by staying humble, working his ass off, and not giving up even when things looked down. Had he inspired the downtrodden to do the same, to rise up from the muck of everyday life, to be as good as they could possibly be? Had he, a Limmie star in his own right, made a difference in the lives of the ordinary people who went to work every day and tried to provide for themselves and their families? Had he been a symbol of hope, of promise, of a dream that anyone could attain if they tried hard enough? Or would it be more of a story of a gifted athlete being able to overcome obstacles, yet being too detached from reality to be an effective role model? He knew that he could go on all day about following your passion in life, but he wasn’t like most people. He had millions of credits in his bank account, two Galactic Cup titles to his name, a nice house, great friends. But not everyone had that. Did he transcend that boundary between the ordinary person and a sports star? Could he have meant more to the people of Coruscant that just as a sports figure who was above everyone else? Did he have the right to give people life advice if they would never have the chance to do exactly what he did?

Gark had been more to the point when he had helped out that community center in his old neighborhood. Perhaps the Bothan had more of a grip on reality than Dirxx knew he had personally. He saw only one bit of Coruscant on game day, the people who were wealthy, those who had the credits to buy seats at the games in premium locations. But what about those in the slums, the kids who grew up on the streets and were roped into gangs and violence from a young age? Did he have a positive influence on them, or was he just a detached entity, growing up in his father’s fame and never having to work odd jobs to pay the bills? Could he really tell those kids that they could be happy if they followed their passion instead of relapsing into a dark corner that many never were able to escape? Could he ever relate to them, ever be able to give up the wealth and work at a diner or cramped office cubicle for a week and survive paycheck-to-paycheck? That was the underpinning of the working class here on the planet, and Dirxx knew deep down that the only legacy that would matter outside of the sports achievements would be what he had done for society at large. Not just those with the custom jerseys, the autographed game balls, the foam fingers, but those who were lucky enough to see the games on crappy old Holo sets, those who were close to falling into financial ruin if they couldn’t make a payment, those who knew they had little to no chance of elevation in the social stratosphere. What he had done for them recently?

As he brooded over these thoughts, he then felt a sharp poke in his side. He snapped out of his train of thought to look over at Gark, who was sitting next to him in the auditorium hall. “Hey, you awake?” the Bothan asked.

“Maybe,” Dirxx replied.

“Lot on your mind?” Gark queried.

“Yeah,” the Besalisk said. “A few things I need to think about later.”

“What’s there to think about other than this?” Gark asked.

“Quite a bit, actually,” Dirxx said. “Things that I’ve never really thought about before. I guess when you climb the mountain, you see things a little differently than when you’re on the ground.”

Then the lights in the hall went down, and all voices went silent. This was it, the induction ceremony was ready to begin. The spokesperson for the Hall of Fame then approached the podium, and all energy in the building seemed to begin building towards a crescendo. Yes there were only three inductees this season, but those three were huge names. Last year two coaches had entered these halls, but now three players would join them and the long list of others who had entered here in years gone by.

The first to be enshrined was Meredith Chambers-Vayne. She was sitting further down the row with Polis by her side, the real oddity of all this given how she had never been associated with the Senators in any way, and was still begrudgingly given credit for her accomplishments by the Senator fans due to her place with Nar Shaddaa. Thus, it felt odd to have her sitting here with the Senator contingent, even though that was mostly due to Polis rather than Meredith herself. But what wasn’t odd was her speech. It was from someone like himself, someone who knew that it was finally time to move on from Limmie. Their playing days were over, and with that seemed to go with it a piece of your soul, of your very being. Even coaching didn’t have the exact same adrenaline inherent in it like playing out there on that field for sixty minutes, going the distance to try and help your team win. The Besalisk knew all too well what she was talking about; he had thought many of the same things in the days following his last game.

When she was done with her speech, the spokesperson started in on the next one.

“The second inductee in the Class of 275 is Dirxx Horstse.”

The Senator fans in attendance went wild as Dirxx approached the podium, wearing his enshrinement jacket. He knew that this was coming all along, but for some reason, actually going up there was so much different than what he had expected. For a man who always had words to say, he felt almost speechless as he reached the podium and was given the chance to put in his induction words.

“Do you know how difficult it’s going to be to follow that speech up?” he asked the crowd. There were some laughs. “But I’ll give it a try. It’s hard to believe that I am here today, being accepted into the sport’s Hall of Fame,” he began. “For the kid who was living in his father’s shadow, and was always told that he would never be good enough to make it in the game, let alone actually lead a team, I think I’ve done pretty well for myself.” This drew some laughs. “It’s too bad I never signed up for a travel card, because I’m sure I would have racked up amazing miles on it during road trips. Bonus miles never hurt.”

“In all seriousness, though, being inducted into the Hall has caused me to think about a lot of things recently. It’s not all about being named here for your accomplishments on the field, but this is permanent recognition of you as a being. I would like to think that I have inspired many through my actions on the field, but also off of it. It’s an honor to be here not just as a player, but also as a student of the game, and as a person, a role model to many. If my biggest accomplishment isn’t overcoming the odds and the critics who told me that I wouldn’t be good enough, then I want it to be that I inspired someone, somewhere, to follow their passion in life and to excel at something they enjoy participating in. To never give up, even when people think otherwise.

Now that I’m no longer a player, I’ve had a lot of time to think about life outside of Limmie. It’s not easy to get to that pinnacle of the sport, but I gutted it out. I went through hell and back to get here today, literally at times. Back when I joined this league, things were different. Spread offenses weren’t as prevalent in the pro game as they are now, and I had to learn how to adjust to anything and everything. I used my size to my advantage in the beginning, but I really took off when I learned to use my brain and make smart plays instead of good ones. It’s what my father always told me to do, but I never really listened until I was at wit’s end around 261. It was a dark time in career, and I doubted myself every day as to whether I should keep pushing on, or if I should quit and find something else to do with my life. Then I realized, with some help, of course, that perhaps, just maybe, I could be more than a marginal player. Perhaps I could make something of myself through my play. So I turned things around in 262, and although it started a little rough, I’d like to think that I did enough to get myself here.

I know I’m rambling a little bit, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I want to thank quite a few people for helping me get here, some of who are in attendance, others not. I’d like to start with my teammates. Without players like Shev Fil’yer, or Shayt Contar, or Polis Vayne, and I see you down there, Polis . . . you can’t escape my sight from up here . . . anyways, without them, I wouldn’t have been nearly as successful. They helped push me further than I ever thought I could go physically or mentally. When I was getting too confident for all the wrong reasons, they would bring me back down to show me that there was still room for improvement. Without them, I wouldn’t have been half the player I ended up becoming. But they are also great friends, and I thank them for all that. Secondly, I’d like to thank some of my biggest nemeses out there on the field for not just taking the spotlight off me . . . “ More laughs. “But for also pushing me out there on the field. When I went to the park on gameday, I knew that I had to be the best . . . and you all pushed me to be the best player I could. To beings like Meredith Chambers, Alana Glencross, Nauranta, and Helena Forsythe, with whom I was privileged to be her teammate for a couple of years. Some of you are in attendance tonight, others are not. We had some major rivalries during my career, and I think those really pushed me and the team as a whole to strive for excellence. Third, I want to thank the Senators organization, for believing in me even when I didn’t, and for taking a chance on me after college, and then again in 262. Fourth, I want to thank the man I was sitting next to a few moments ago, Gark S’rily. He may be a head-case at times, being a general manager and all, and one of my former coaches, but he really believed in me from the beginning. He gave me that captaincy back in 262, even though he had never seen me play before. Because he knew that there was something special in me. Because he, not I, knew that I could be destined for greatness someday. Here’s to his eye for talent. Fifth, I’d like to thank the fans. Without you, this team wouldn’t mean nearly as much. You are what make this game fun, and continually forcing us to work to our potential. There’s nothing like winning a Galactic Cup and being celebrated by the home fans. It’s something I got to experience twice, and wish I could do all over again someday.

Lastly, I . . . I want to thank my Dad, Dain Horstse. I never really got to know him that well, but what he taught me while he was still alive was to be the best player, and the best man, that I could be. Without him, I wouldn’t have had issues coming out of his shadow, yes, but I would also have lacked that measuring stick to try and aspire to. I know that he would have wanted me to flesh out my full potential, and I think I did during my career. And now I’m here, ready to be enshrined into the Hall of Fame. Not bad, I’d say. Thank you to the voters who got me in here; it means a lot. Go Senators, and see you all out on the field, or at least the sidelines, come next season.”

The audience cheered wildly as Dirxx left the podium, with Gark and Polis making sure that they got in their fair share of applause. For Polis, he knew that he probably wouldn’t end up here unless he went back to playing, or if he coached really well, but if there was one person he knew deserved the honor, it was Dirxx. For Gark, it was about the same. Dirxx had deserved this honor, given all of his accomplishments on and off the field. He was an ambassador for the franchise, and would continue as such next season.

But Dirxx knew that his mission was only just beginning. Being inducted into the Hall had cemented his status as a player, but he still felt a nag about being more involved in the community at large. Gark had given him a possible outlet two years prior, and the Besalisk knew that this was just the beginning of the story of Dirxx Horstse, the person. It would be a story of someone from under the lights leaving that arena and making a name for themselves outside of the stadium, away from screaming fans and opposing players, just able to make change in a different way. Yes, this Dirxx would be far different . . . or would he stay a manifestation of the personality of a Hall of Famer, someone who didn’t quit, someone who never backed down without a fight? Yes, he could do this. All he needed was time.

IC: Polis Vayne

Polis watched as Meredith reached the podium and gave her speech. Yes, this was a big moment for not just her, but him as well. It wasn’t all about the two as a couple now; now, this transcended the boundaries of reality. Meredith would be enshrined for all time here in the Hall of Fame. He knew that it was likely he would never join her here, but he had still meant so much to the Senator franchise all the same. His number 15 jersey had been retired this previous season, and he was named as one of the leaders of the Senators in the “Renaissance” period. Those weren’t all bad, to be sure.

Yes, Meredith’s speech was to the point. Yes it was heartfelt. But Polis knew that she also had a bit of remorse in her speech, and knew all too well where she was coming from. He had felt the same separation anxiety after leaving the game that she seemed to be going through. It was all a part of the process, they said, but only when you experienced it first-hand would you really understand what it meant to be a former Limmie player, a former Limmie star, a former champion. Meredith had clung on to the Valor Foundation on Nar Shaddaa as a way of mentoring youth who had nowhere else to turn in a time of need. Polis hadn’t done anything of the sort in his own time, but the more Meredith talked about her work with the Foundation, the more Polis understood why she was working with that group. One may be the best Limmie player in the whole galaxy, may score the most goals, may block the most shots or make championship-winning plays that are lauded through the ages, but only the greatest players, those with the winning mentality on and off the field, those who made a difference, were the ones who were truly happy with their careers after they hung up the cleats. Meredith was trying to find that happy medium, and Polis understood that perhaps he should take a page from her book and try to be more Polis Vayne, not the Limmie player and coach, but Polis Vayne the man. What kind of legacy would he leave behind? Just stats and Galactic Cups, a name in principle, or could he be an immortal legend, of the kind that most aspire to but can never reach?

And then Meredith left off her speech with an admission of the wear and tear she had gone through out on the field. Polis could relate, maybe not in the same fashion, but in understanding. This was more than just about being named to a Hall of Fame. This was soul-searching at its finest.

Then Dirxx ambled up to the podium when his name was announced. Like Meredith, he hinted at his overall legacy, on and off the field. Perhaps, Polis thought to himself, he wasn’t alone. Perhaps there was life after Limmie that he hadn’t quite thought about. Yes he and Meredith had a strong relationship, yes he was coaching the team he once helped lead to two league titles, but maybe he had glossed over Polis the person. Perhaps being a Limmie star meant more than just grabbing the headlines. Perhaps there was even more to life that Polis Vayne could explore and work with to cement his legacy.

Once again, Dirxx mentioned Polis in his speech, or at least in his notes. Polis felt slightly tickled by this mention, but it wasn’t like such a naming was unexpected. He and Dirxx had been close for years, dating back before 262. He, like the Besalisk, had been in an uncertain place in his career before 262. He was just another forward, not that great compared to the real stars. But, like Dirxx, he showed them all the same. He had won that Numifolis Award . . . and he had finally believed in himself. That was the biggest piece of the message that he was hearing. Limmie was more than about the game. It was a way of life, and a way to relate to the fans who made the game go places. And, today, with the new class of inductees going into the Hall, the voters had done the galaxy a service. They had inducted not just three great players, but great people. No matter what happened, the legacies of these chosen three were cemented here for eternal posterity, and he, Polis Vayne, was a witness to history.

Periodically throughout the course of the season, we’ll be giving updates on all 12 ELL teams with all the snark we can muster.

Agamar Packers: Talk about rookie mistakes. Doesn’t the Pack know that you’re supposed to beat Euceron in conference play? By the way, word of warning: if anyone mentions “a Mandalorian contingency plan” at this week’s game, get a fire extinguisher fast.

Bakura Miners: Chancellor Trieste is making a state visit to the Consortium in conjunction with the Miners/Buccaneers game and reportedly has made a bet with the Queen Mother on the outcome of the match. Kerry Trieste is a smart cookie, so we’re pretty sure she bet on the C-Bucs.

Chandrila Patriots: Ask any member of the Patriot Nation and they will tell you that the Pats/C-Bucs game was one of the most thrilling matches of limmie played at Stoney End in years. They will conveniently forget to mention that the Patriots lost that game, but hey, who’s keeping track of a silly thing like wins and losses?Coruscant Senators: Dirxx Horstse’s induction into the Hall of Fame is a well-deserved honor that recognizes the incredible leadership of one of the great captains of the Kayl’hen Era (and perhaps the Modern Age of Limmie). In fact, as the Senators are discovering, he might be irreplaceable. We’re going to totally blame Gark S’rily for this one.

Euceron Storm: The Storm’s disastrous game at Stoney End suddenly makes sense! It was all a ploy for them to sneak into the Patriots’ vault and steal Marte Nalo’s 263 playbook from when he was offensive coordinator with the Patriots and they won the Galactic Cup. No wonder Aysell Yan’ii got back to what’s looking like Salbukk-form.

Hapes Consortium Buccaneers: The C-Bucs slipped into Stoney End and stole a win. In fact, they did it so well that if we didn’t know better, we’d say that Moira Mallory was running a gigantic spy operation on Hapes Prime. Nah, that’s crazy.

Mando'ade Mercs: We all know defense wins championships, but someone should remind Vizsla that you do have to score some points to win a championship too.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: Meredith Chambers got a well-deserved induction into the Limmie Hall of Fame. The woman has so much hardware that if she melted it all down she could singlehandedly prop up the Republican credit in a financial crisis. The only problem is that this has caused everyone to realize that this generation of Smugglers just plain lacks a defining leader like Chambers. (See! We can write one of these without talking about Konrad Dvorak—who still is running a terrible, terrible defense.)

Ralltiir Starkillers: We watched the Starkillers’ game and were shocked to discover that there were 14 other players on the pitch who were stealing the limelight from Galaxy Protector Unanimous. They should all be benched for the Coruscant game this week so as not to obscure the glory that is Unanimous.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: All of us chipped in for a case of Corellian whiskey for our buddy Setarcos. Four losses by two scores or less in five weeks justifies a lot of stiff drinks. But hey, Vesper Lynd looked great again so it’s not all terrible, right?

Ylesia Lightning: Kasin had a bit of a rough time against the Mercs, but she’s going to be fine. She just needs someone to pump her repulsors a little bit. No big deal. What’s that you say? Nar Shaddaa’s offense is actually decent? Okay, then maybe this could get a little hairy.

As with the previous week at Ralltiir Taab had accompanied the Mercs on the road for this critical match up against the defending champion Lightning. He did so again not as a visiting head of state, but as team owner and fan for the Mando'ade Mercs. Despite this, security was still heavy around the Mand'alor. There had been reports of anti-human demonstrations here on Ylesia, and while he doubted there was any threat these could pose to him and his team, the events at MandalMotors Hall still occupied the minds of the Protectors.

The demonstrations mattered little to Taab, he doubted they would target the Mandalorians who were one of the more accepting cultures of non-humans. Their own history began with the Taung, an "alien" species and was open to all who wished to live by the Resol'nare. Taab chuckled to himself as the teams took to the field. The aruetiise called them backward savages, and yet it was the mando'ade that had made a reality out of the dreams of equality the rest of the galaxy aspired to. He shook his head now. There was no accounting for the ignorance of the aruetiise.

None of that mattered though, what matter now was the game. Winning the first conference match up of the season for the realigned Mercs was going to be a difficult task. The Lightning were not only the defending champions, they had the best defense in the league. The Mercs, coming off a shutout loss the previous week were going to be hard pressed to outscore such a talented team. Their biggest advantage was their unusual spread offense. Not something that the second year team would have seen much of (though they had defeated the Mercs the previous year).

Coach Vizsla used that unfamiliarity to the Mercs advantage, spreading the field and not allowing the Lightning defense to help one another when on of their backs was over matched or caught out of position. Still the game started slowly, with both teams feeling each other out. The Lightning drew first blood, a bar point for a 1-0 lead five minutes into the contest, but the Mercs quickly responded with three points of their own off of a Daryc goal. From then it was truly game on, the lead changed hands several times before halftime as both teams were always within striking distance of each other.

Taab was content as the half came upon them. The Mercs had found just enough room in the Lightning defense to take a slim 12-11 lead. There were some who thought the Mercs wouldn't score 12 all game, so while things were close, Taab felt good about things so far. The second half brought even more of the same and the Mercs didn't take their final lead 22-20 until there were ten minutes left in the match. From there, the Mercs forwards took control and sealed the game against the worn out Lightning backs. As the final score flashed across the board, showing the Mercs 29-20 win, Taab stood up abruptly to make his way to the team shuttle. He wanted the team off world as soon as possible to avoid any...hooliganism from the Lightnings fans.

A few hours later, as the shuttle lifted off (under heavy escort) Taab could feel good. This was a good win, perhaps not a statement win as the sports holos had called for, but for now it would be good enough. It would be enough to keep the clans off his back for a little while longer anyway, or so he thought...

IC: Ryi Kor'leClub Ndiana Iones, Ord Sabaok

Ryi had a headache. They still hand't made much headway in tracking down Bliznetsi and the pounding music of the club, punctuated by the scantily clad, gyrations of the patrons was making her feel any better. Looking to her husband only made things worse. He didn't seem to mind the scenery at all. She rolled her eyes. She would make him pay for that later on.

"Another dead end I'm afraid" he said to her over their secure commlink. It allowed them to keep in touch and communicate without shouting at one another despite the loud music. Their buckets also denied anyone the ability to read their lips. They had complete privacy even in the crowded club, the third such "exclusive" they had searched since they had arrived on world.

Ord Sabaok had a reputation for these clubs. Some were reserved for high rollers and wealthy off world guests, while others catered to the young students from the meshgeroya crazed students at The Ord Sabaok University. "The" Ryi shook her head. How presumptuous. Well she supposed the aruetii school had to distinguish itself somehow as she went back to her search.

She and Kote had been searching the Ord Sabaok nightlife for their twi'lek bounty hunter, what information they had found suggested he enjoyed frequenting such establishments, especially the ones crowded with young women, but so far they hadn't found him. Questioning the patrons had proved useless, most couldn't remember their own names, or if they had classes in the morning, much less seeing some twi'lek in the previous weeks. With a nod of her head Ryi gestured to the door and stalked off, the throngs if aruetiise parting before her. Kote followed along.

"So where to next? We haven't seen any sign of him despite his reputation."

That something approached them as they exited from the crowded club onto the only slightly less than crowded street.

"You must be the Mandooos" came from the overweight man standing next to some sort of personal speeder. Ryi was content to ignore him and move on, but Kote paused for a moment. "Blurt, campus police. Heard you two were looking for a twi'lek."

Now Ryi stopped as well, regarding the human silently through her T-Visor. He continued on. "Word gets around. We don't get real pros like you two around that often," he gave a thumbs up to them. "What do you know?" Ryi snapped out. She was irked by this man, she doubted he could run 100 meters before dying of a heart attack, and she was sure the rest of his skills were equally as...neglected.

"We had a twi'lek show up dead a few days ago. Party animal from the tox reports if ya know what I mean. Happens around here all the time. He's a code 42.5/7 to us, that's an unknown person, twi'lek male in the lingo. Maybe it's your guy."

Shab. Ryi hoped not, but it was worth a look. "Take us there." Blurt mounted his "vehicle" and "sped" off at a walking pace, the Mandalorians followed just behind. Along the way he regaled them of his long history as a campus security officer, never catching on to the fact that they just didn't care. At long last they arrived at the campus hospital, the morgue was in the basement.

"Yup, that's him" Kote sighed a few minutes later as they looked at Bliznetsi lying cold, and quite dead, on the mortuary slab. He looked just like the holo the Bounty Hunter's guild had provided them with, except now he was naked. Ryi thought quickly as Blurt started going over the report that had been filed upon the finding of the twi'lek. Ryi found it difficult to keep up with what all was found in his system, but Kote stiffened slightly at some long sounding chemical composition. Still he made no further comment until Blurt finished. "Since we know who he is now, guess we can send his body to his family. He was found like this though, no clothes, personal effects. Just a drunk, happens all the time at a party school like this." He shrugged

Kote nudged Ryi now before speaking again. "We'll handle that. The family are...close friends of ours. That's why we were looking for him. We can escort him back to Ryloth."

Blurt looked about the morgue conspiratorially for a moment. "I can't... I mean I am not allowed to just release the body to you. I mean, there is paperwork to fill out, have to run it past the..."

Ryi spoke up now. "We would consider it a...professional courtesy."

That caught Blurts attention. "Oh...well yeah. Of course. Go ahead, You're professionals, I am a professional. Yeah we gotta stick together right. The thin blue line and all that. OK, go ahead. I can uh...take care of the paperwork later."

"We'll need a transport."

"Oh..I can get you that, you can use a campus ambulance, hold on, I'll go get it."

As Blurt waddled off to fulfill his promise Ryi turned to Kote. "OK, what do you know?"

"Kote chuckled, his superior memory allowed his to memorize any number of facts, even those not often remembered by medical staff. "One of the drugs in his system, it's a poison, hardly ever used anymore. Our pal Bliznetski was murdered, maybe his family can tell us why. Guild card said they lived in Labat "

"So now we go to Ryloth."

Blurt started waddling back to them, keys in hand.

"Yup, now we go to Ryloth."

IC: Beskaryc TaabKeldabe, Manda'yaim

Taab could barely contain his rage at the news from his head of security. "Run that past me again, I'm sure I didn't hear you right."

"Lord mand'alor, while you were off world two men, mando'ade, attempted to penetrate the security at the Meshla Vhetin in the hopes of assassinating you upon your return." Taab couldn't help himself, he smashed his armored fist into the wall of his office breaking through the material.

"These...hut'uune (cowards), were they connected with the bombing?"

The Protector shook his armored head slowly. "No my lord. We interrogated them rather thoroughly. They only recently arrived on manda'yaim and were...dissatisfied with your lack of progress in punishing those responsible for assassinating your predecessor." Taab slammed his fists down on his desk now. He had hoped that the Mercs recent play would distract the clans long enough to give Ryi and Kote the time needed to complete their investigation. So far that was holding true. But he hadn't considered that there might be lone striil out there willing to eliminate him regardless of the clans.

"Have them executed, immediately. Quietly."

"My Lord, wouldn't public exec..."

"No. I don't want anyone else smelling blood in the water. Keep it quiet for now, and cancel my further travel plans for the remainder of the season. From now on I will remain here. If anyone else wants to try to kill me, they can come meet me face to face."

It was now plain that breaking protocol and giving in to His instincts had, even that once, been a major mistake! False, too, was the notion that status in the community would provide a shield against suspicion! There had been questions, searching questions! Answers had been given, to the extent of revealing information that himself would have preferred remain undisclosed, but would that be enough? A glaring error of commission by himself, but now Himself was not here to punish himself for it!

Reliance on the Portal had, perhaps, been an error too. The way it so conveniently gave access to the Shrine had blinded everyone, himself included, to one simple lack. None of the Predecessors had known where the Shrine actually was! None of the Predecessors had ever been curious enough to find out; not even (as far as himself knew) the servant that had found the Portal and recognised it for what it was! An error of omission by all, including Himself!

When inactive, the Portal appeared to be a solid piece of wall; in fact, it could change its surface appearance, texture and colour (Clawdite-like) to match its surroundings. It had only originally been noticed by the servant because the stonework edging the aperture had eroded away in places to reveal some of the complex circuitry beneath. However, when activated by the Ritual, the aperture became a shimmering pane of blue and silver whorls that could then be simply stepped through, straight into the Shrine. Unlike a Turbolift there was no tell-tale shaft to be detected and followed; users were in a closet one second, in the Shrine the next! An advantage that had now turned into a problem - as if himself didn't already have a growing collection of those.

The Shrine could, of course, be where everyone had probably assumed that it was; directly under the modest dwelling and its small patch of land that all the Predecessors (and now himself) called home. However, it could also be directly under the vast pit that was being sunk to house the new Limmie Stadium, and so liable to possible discovery by the Animals working there! Over-educated Animals that would immediately recognise the Shrine's contents - all of them! Contents that were all irreplaceable now.

In the years closer to His lifetime, acquisitions for (what would become) the Shrine had been easier and had better provenance. The political climate had been better then, His actions dismissed as mere Rebel propaganda by the people of His homeworld. Even the members of His family that had defected (presumably because they did know the truth) had simply been termed turncoats and traitors; anything they said automatically suspect. Then had come the death of the Prime (and the destruction of his personal collection) in the cataclysm that engulfed the Master's new throneworld retreat. It was closely followed by rapid territorial gains by the Rebels at the expense of the Empire and its institutions; along with an acceptance (forced or otherwise) of their version of history, their pantheon of heroes, their demonology of villains; His name prominent among them. Many (not all, but a large proportion) of the 'New Citizens' of the 'New Republic' had hastened to demonstrate their zeal (honestly felt, or smokescreen) for the new regime, the new reality; by publicly burning their memorabilia of the Empire's glory days. So much had been lost. So much advertised on Holo-Bay nowadays was suspect in origin; ridiculously overpriced fakes, most of it. Obvious to one who, like himself, could tell the difference on sight.

Knowing it to be a forlorn hope, especially at this late stage, himself had nevertheless racked his brain for a legal device to stop (or at least delay) the excavation. Nothing! Neither in his mind nor in the most abstruse of the Authorities (himself had them all). Removing the contents of the Shrine, even the Machine itself, was possible (everything had gone into it through the Portal, after all) but would render them even more likely to be discovered. ASF had the habit of obtaining 'Search and Seizure' Warrants on the most nebulous of probable cause.

Himself had to do something, though. The combination of dread at he possible loss of the Shrine (and therefore the Plan) with highly interrupted sleep (sometimes no sleep at all) was making himself ill. The strain and stress of so many years of harbouring secrets had taken its toll. Limmie had been a pleasant diversion but.... wait, that was it! A time when ASF, Dodd and the presumed Jedi would all be distracted, along with half, or more, of Agamar. The 'Home' match against Ylesia Lightning would certainly give him time to find out where the Shrine was located, at the very least.

Now all himself needed was the proper equipment and some training in its use. Himself had baradium-level information on a number of people, indiscretions both moral and criminal. One of them would know exactly the right piece of technology, and if they were found dead the next day, victim of a tragic accident; no great loss. Neat and tidy! No loose ends!

The Monarchs traveled to Loronar to have a joint practice with the Colonials. Setarcos sat in the stands of Jade Park and watched as the Junior Leaguers put his Elite squad through their paces. The younger Colonials had speed and nothing to lose, some even felt that this might be their chance to impress the Monarchs’ GM. Unbeknownst to them he was not focusing on the field at all because he had the Colonials’ owner sitting with him. “Tell me Arden, are you here to see me or my Full Forward?”

A small grin curled the corner of the young K’ntarr’s mouth, “I’m not the one who arranged this little get together, remember. But if you must know, having Vesper here is an added bonus.”

“I see. In that case I will arrange for the team to have a day off on planet before we head back to Rydonni Prime for the match.” Setarcos might have been old, but he was an old romantic. “Variise is wondering how preparations are going on your end for Naathe’s nuptials?”

“On schedule. Loruna said that Santhe has run into some unforeseen complications with their project, but should be able to resolve them in time for the wedding. What about your old hobby that you have been dabbling with?”

Setarcos laughed and shook his head slightly, “It’s coming along nicely. We should have the first working prototypes by week’s end.” The entire time the two of them had been talking, neither looked at the other. Instead Arden’s eyes never once left the field, from Vesper specifically, and Setarcos was watching the pool of reporters that sat in the stands on the opposite side of the field. “Do you think it wise for us to be discussing this with her hanging around?”

Arden traced a line with his eyes down to where Setarcos was talking about. A young woman reporter was sitting in the midst of her colleagues. Normally this would not have caused anyone to think there was anything out of sorts, but upon closer inspection, one would notice that this woman was not paying attention to the play on the field, like her colleagues, but to Setarcos and Arden.

“I see Miss O’Shane is a blonde now,” Arden observed, “You’re the one who thought having media here would provide us with more cover. I believe the terminology is ‘hiding in plain sight’.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to let her in.”

“She is media Arco, what would you have done if someone denied you access to an open practice?”

“Pushed harder,” Setarcos thought for a moment, “But you could have used the excuse that she was not a sports reporter.”

“She is part of the BBC and you brought yet another Miner into the fold.”

“But Corrie is Hapan, not Bakuran.”

“Which is why the reporter from The Consortium Times. Face it Arco we can’t get away from her.” Setarcos sat silently and shook his head. He started rubbing the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes as if he was in pain. “What’s the matter Arco? Why are you so nervous about this girl?”

“Argh… I don’t know, but there is something about her that I just don’t trust. She has too much information – no, too much accurate information – that no reporter should have, especially one from off world. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” Setarcos stood up and started looking down at the field where play had stopped, “You’ve got some really good kids down there,” he said pointing at the pitch, “I just might have to move some of them up to the Red Wings next year.”

Arden stood up as well, “I had a feeling that you would say that. So who do you have in mind? Mya Tremas? Willy Roriams? Naddo King? Lily Relty? Magdalene Smythe? Hark Sparrow? Oswald Jones?”

Setarcos thought about it for a minute and simply said, “Yup.”

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

After the Starkiller match the Monarchs walked back to their locker room in complete silence. They had once again lost, at home, by four points. Four Points. They had the lead at half time, and let the game slip away. They allowed the inflated egomaniac Abe Cynour to shut them down in the second half. Setarcos even heard several of his players – Lexi Anna, Ema Zostin, Vicki Divine – go up to Abe after the match and try to talk to him. The content of the conversation was not clear to him, but it seemed to him that their former GVSU teammate did not even seem to recognize them.

The bright spot in their fifth straight loss was the fact that the Bakuran Triplets, as Erika O’Shane had dubbed the Monarchs front three in her last article, were clicking. Setarcos had one of the equipment managers pass a message along to Mara Singus and Clair Oswin that they needed to report to the Head Coach’s office once they had finished changing. The Captain and the Rookie walked in together and found that Dawn Solo-Undolo was sitting quietly in the corner. Mara was the first to speak, “You wanted to see us Boss?”

Setarcos was looking down at a data pad on his desk when he started to talk, “Listen, this isn’t something that a coach likes to do, but sometime it is necessary. We’ve got to make a move that is for the benefit of the team as a whole. So that being said, Clair we’re going to be sending…”

“Stop right there Coach!” Setarcos looked up in shock and found Mara’s face mere centimeters from his own. “Sending Clair down to any organization, even a winning one like Byblos would be detrimental in her development. Who could teach her more than the two most decorated players in our team’s short history?”

“Meredith Chambers,” Dawn muttered under her breath.

“Ok, I mean in our organization. Who else would be a better role model then the two of us?”

“No one,” Setarcos answered, “Which is why we are going to be sending her to the bench for the next few matches. Dawn and I realized that we have been babying you and threw Clair right into the rancor pit.”

Mara straightened up, “Oh… I see… Well, in that case, I guess I better go get ready for the Patriots then.”

“And while you’re at it,” Dawn said as she stood up, “You can teach the Rook the proper way to remove your own foot from your mouth.”

Week 6 is here, which ordinarily would be giving clarity to the playoff picture (or maybe not) and is now instead the heat of the chase! Bonus rolls to Agamar, Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, and Rydonni Prime this morning.

1. Euceron Storm – With a blowout road victory over what had been a streaking Corellia Rebels team, the Storm have moved back into pole position in these rankings. The Storm have opened up a two-game lead in the Skywalker with three games left in the season. We all know that’s plenty of time for the Storm to fall down like they have so many seasons in a row, but I don’t think that will happen. We’re looking at a playoff-caliber team, people. Believe it. 1

2. Ralltiir Starkillers – A blowout loss at home pushes the Starkillers down a bit, which makes two sketchy games in a row. However, considering that they’re 5-1, and only Euceron can also say that, this team is still in pole position in the Solo. And they have the talent, and now motivation, to keep it that way. 1

3. Coruscant Senators – The scary thing about this team is that they could, and in some eyes should, be 6-0. If it hadn’t been for three measly points separating them from two wins in the first three weeks, this would be your team to beat. The Senators rolled a suspect-looking Starkiller defense this week, and had shades of ‘The Wall’ in their defensive scheme this week to the point where you thought you saw Dirxx Horstse himself down there on the pitch. Wait, he’s coaching? Maybe that’s why. Oh, and thank you to the Senators for knocking Mr. Galaxy Protector down a peg. Much obliged, guys. 3

4. Mando’ade Mercs – No, a one-point loss typically doesn’t move a team up, or at least keep them in the same place, in these rankings. However, they lost this week’s game to a surprising Agamar squad that seems to love uppercutting top-tier teams when push comes to shove. The Mercs are still a solid bunch, and should bounce back next week. N/C

5. Chandrila Patriots – A nice win over winless Rydonni Prime sets the Patriots up nicely for their Revolutionary War game against Coruscant this next week. Both teams are 4-2, and the winner gets into the proverbial driver’s seat. Oh, and the Patriots might be for real this year. I fear for the safety of the owners’ board if they fail to make the playoffs this season after starting hot. N/C

6. Agamar Packers – A close-shave win over the Mercs, plus a recent hot streak, puts the Packers in the top half of these rankings for the first time all season. They are channeling that expansion-franchise magic that Ylesia had going for them last year, and are now at .500. Not bad from this team with an owner who didn’t know a bit about Limmie coming in. Sound like a Bothan anyone in particular knows from this time a decade ago? No, we didn’t think so. 2

7. Hapes Consortium Buccaneers – It’s not that they lost to the Miners. It’s that they lost to the Miners in a low-scoring game. With a defense as porous as Bakura’s, the fact that the C-Bucs couldn’t do anything means more for the Miners than it does for the C-Bucs. Oh, and they now are stuck in a three-way tie in the Solo for second place, which means that one team will lose out unless things change dramatically. 4

8. Nar Shaddaa Smugglers – A 22-point home win against the defending champs means a lot to this franchise, which just recently had owner Kaitlyn Vehn unveil plans for a new Six Boroughs Stadium. This team is very much alive in the Skywalker, and definitely have some momentum going into next season even if they can’t make the cut in three weeks. 4

9. Bakura Miners – No, it wasn’t pretty, but the Miners pulled out a win against the C-Bucs. Their offense didn’t help them at all, so that needs to be fixed, but their defense shows that it has a chance after all to shut down opposing offenses. Now they need to keep doing that going forward, because being second-to-last in both points scored and points allowed don’t exactly equal a winning team. 1

10. Corellia Rebels – What momentum this team had from consecutive wins the previous two weeks seems to have been stalled by the Euceron Storm. At home, no less, and this week’s game was a complete debacle for the Rebels. While they are still alive in the Skywalker, this team needs to get some momentum fast, or they’ll find that the Skywalker is more competitive than they thought going in. 3

11. Ylesia Lightning – A sophomore slump is never a good thing, and the defending champs are finding this out the hard way. Ryloth broke through two years ago from this position to win the Galactic Cup at the end of the season, but that’s just not looking feasible unless the defense actually shows up to play and goalie Kasin Urdaaza actually can make a few stops in goal. 2

12. Rydonni Prime Monarchs – And the Monarchs open up a wider lead in the ‘Fresher Bowl Sweepstakes. Expect another busy Draft this upcoming offseason from the boys in blue and silver. 1

Gark stared down at the field as the game began from the box high above the field. From the opening minute, it looked like the Senators had a fire in their gut that they wanted to vent on the Starkillers. There was certainly incentive to win this game, as the Starkillers were coming in undefeated, at home, and thinking that they could walk all over any team they wanted. Add in Galaxy Protector’s usual crap, and Gark wanted nothing more here than to see the big-talking goalie get what was coming to him. The galaxy would probably thank him and the team if they could pull this off.

It wouldn’t be easy, though. The Starkillers, despite looking shaky the week before in a close win over Rydonni Prime, had otherwise been rock-solid all season. Being 4-0 against the Skywalker was a feat that no other Solo team had been able to accomplish, although the Senators had been oh so close to matching it. Their defense had looked suspect the last week, but again, that could easily be a misnomer. Their offense was also good, so the Senator defense would have to keep a lock down on the top forwards that Ralltiir would send at them, mostly Loren Jul from the looks of it. Midfield is where Gark knew the game would come down in the end if it was hotly contested late. Ye’ves’toung and Alyda Hovechar, both first-round picks in the last few years of the Draft, were looking like quite a nice duo. However, the Senators knew that they had the depth, and the talent, to keep up, if not dominate. That’s what happened when your best midfielder had in seven years as a pro, your other starter was a first-rounder as well, and your backups were a solid-scoring option as a wing and an assistant captain, respectively. Yes, this would be a nice matchup in the trenches out there.

The first possession showed that the Senators had some steam rolling early. Dauza Chary, the rookie Nemoidian Center Half Forward, nailed Riff Persnor in stride as he made his way across the midfield line. The Cathar then bowled over the defender on his way to trying to find a shot. However, his path was blocked by Dev Poletin, the Whipid full back. Riff then alertly threw a pass back to Dauza to set up the offense. When she found her option, Dauza threw an absolute bulls-eye pass to Max Qorbus. The burly Nautolan backed down his defender in the post before zipping a pass across to Riff once more, who had shaken free from the coverage. Riff quickly passed back to Max as the defense fell a step behind, and Max went up high to catch the ball. However, Galaxy Protector was right there to stop any kind of shot, so Max did the smart thing and passed to a wide-open Zadd. The Defel, using his diminutive height to his advantage, had snuck around the defense and was open. He didn’t have to do much, as Galaxy Protector was out of range, and half-heartedly kicked the ball, or at least gave it more momentum as it bounced off him, into the back of the net to open a 3-0 Senator lead early on.

Within a minute, the Senators were back again in the striking zone. At the other end, the Starkillers had been stuffed by a nice play from Zumarrorroo, and then a pass intended for the left corner of the goal box was easily intercepted by Jayla Leed, the Senator goalie. She nailed a solid kick that flew over the heads of the players in the Senator defensive zone, and Gayla Renhorn headed the ball as it came down towards her after scrapping with former teammate Alyda Hovechar. The ball skittered to Riff, who then got it to Dauza to set up. The Nemoidian rapidly fired the ball to Demetra Silkins, the “rover” midfielder who was in the flat. She dodged a tackle and then fired a needle pass right into the zone to Zadd. The Defel once again scored as Galaxy Protector was unable to reach that corner of the goal. Two goals for Zadd in the first five minutes, 6-0 Senators.

By halftime, the game was clearly in favor of the Senators. The offense had put up 15, and the defense had only allowed a goal by Ralltiir. Whatever had been working in the first half Gark knew would have to translate to the second half, because he didn’t want to give this one away and fall back in the Solo. It looked like there might be a four-team race to the playoffs, and he wanted Coruscant to be one of those left standing in three weeks’ time.

“Another burger sounds nice right about now,” he said mindlessly. How had food gotten into his mind at a time such as this?

“Are you hungry already?” Me’lin asked. She was finishing off her pretzel, which had taken at least ten minutes to consume as she nibbled on it.

“Not necessarily, but when have I ever let that stop me?” Gark asked with a wry smile. His wife just rolled her eyes and finished the pretzel.

The second half was indeed a mirror image of the first. The Senators didn’t need goals as often, and were content on slinging the ball over the crossbar for single points. A bar point by Max Qorbus was followed up by one from Cord McKerty, a point from Rayel Edare, the backup Pantoran forward, then yet another one from Kev Flysto as the point parade kept on going. Since the Senator defense was holding at the other end, the Senator forwards, starters and reserves alike, were having fun toying with Galaxy Protector and his defense. They weren’t scoring any goals, so they weren’t getting practice at that, but it seemed like they were having some fun out there.

A bar point by Edare late in the game gave made the final score Senators 23, Starkillers 6. In the victory, Riff had led the charge with two goals and two bar points, totaling 8 for the game, Zadd had scored two goals, and Demetra Silkins had chipped in one more from the right side. Bar points were numerous, coming from half a dozen players. Overall, it was a complete team effort, with the whole offensive unit shouldering the scoring load instead of how most teams relied on one or two main scorers. Hopefully this scheme would continue to work next week and beyond, Gark thought as the Senator team brass cleared out of the box.

Down on the field, Alysha was being interviewed by the Senator broadcast team.

“Hey Alysha, nice to have you on here,” Flynn Carp, the voice of the Senators broadcast team, said.

“Nice to be here,” the Hapan said.

“So, how does it feel to come out here to Ralltiir and win this game?”

“Well, as we’re all aware now from this past week’s media coverage, we apparently love to give long speeches, so I’m just letting you guys know I'm doing one ahead of time so you don’t get too bored,” Alysha said. All the broadcasters could do was laugh heartily, Ozzy Rytund, Carp’s broadcasting partner, nearly fell out of his seat as he laughed. Galaxy Protector had slung mud at the Senators for long speeches, so the viewers at home would get one as a way to stick it back in his face.

But Gark didn’t listen to that broadcast feed. He instead went down to the locker room and waited for the team to disperse. Then he approached Pam Korthe, who was looking through a few notes.

“Not a bad game,” Gark commented.

“Not at all,” Pam said. “Just wish they were all this easy.”

“And they won’t get any lighter,” Gark reminded her. “Have a rivalry game next week that you have to prepare for.”

“Already planned out my game tape schedule,” Pam replied. “A win there would really set us up nicely.”

“And I’m sure the Patriots are wanting to take us down badly, so you need to keep everyone on the same page this week in practice,” Gark said. “If there’s anything you need me to do to assist in that preparation, I’m here.”

“I thought you quit coaching.”

“Eh, I’ll give the players a few tips. Nothing much,” Gark said.

And so the Senators returned to their shuttle as a 4-2 team with two conference wins. What was sad about this was that they had two losses; they knew that they could easily be 6-0, and be in pole position in the Conference with these two wins acting as a cushion. But there was no time to worry about that now. They had a rivalry game coming up. The Chandrila Patriots were coming to town, and it was going to be big.

Tim surveyed the Packers fans with satisfaction, quite a lot in ordinary clothes (to be expected as Agamarians had a reputation for knowing the value of a Credit!). However the rest were seemingly equally split between those wearing the traditional Yellow and Green and those sporting the new Black and Grey 'Away' Colours. Those had received a real boost in sales since the Miners match, and even the Euceron result hadn't put much of a damper on it.

He couldn't see much of the Visiting Supporters' sections from the Box, but had heard that a much greater than expected number of (what the controllers referred to as 'Heavy Fighter' class) ships and garishly painted Shuttles were packing the Spaceport to near capacity. He'd also been told that Bounty Hunters and ASF enjoyed a reasonably cordial professional relationship. As a practical matter, ASF accepted that Bounty Hunters had to put Credits into their accounts and food on their tables, so it was common practice for Officers (certainly for 'Official', i.e. Law Enforcement issued, Bounties) to hand over any information they had regarding the fugitive(s), leaving it to the Bounty Hunters to do the taking-down etc. in their own time and in their own way. If the malefactor was of a violent disposition, it also saved ASF casualties!

Nevertheless, Oleg obviously believed in being prepared. On his way to the Stadium, Tim had seen that knots of ASF Officers had what looked to be Stokhli spray sticks to hand (but not in-hand). They were, and yet they weren't! They'd been modified to spray a 2 to 3 metre being with a generous coating of heat and flame resistant adhesive at reasonably short range with a single half-second discharge, the said adhesive hardening in another half-second to turn the target into an instant statue - or so said the theory! Tested on some almost worn-out Droids, several (including a couple of the famed YVH type) had blown their motivators when they found themselves brought to a unexpectedly sudden halt, unable to move!

As 'Welcome' faded out and the teams formed up on their Colour-bearers for the Anthems (Tim didn't know what the Mandalorian one was, except that it had a hauntingly sweet sound to it) followed by 'Star of Agamar', as usual;

he wondered if Asyr's contingency game-plan would work. At the first sign of a Wookiee-sized player coming on for the Mercs, Roon
would be substituted onto the pitch for a Human. Any sign of Wookie-sized players charging-down 'The Bombardment' and it would be cancelled and replaced with the 'Charging Bantha' attacking play.

This was a 'flying wedge'; composed of Roon (2.5 metres of very solid bone and muscle, at the tip), Allanabuck and Dek a little behind and to the side with Saba and Baraduc closing off the rear. It would head directly (and with all the speed that could be mustered) for the opposing goal, where one of the Noghri (hidden in the centre of the formation) would hand-off the ball to any of the others (or pass to Miles or Jiva) for them to take the shot. Asyr hoped that the splitting-up of the formation would confuse the Keeper for a few instants while he tried to figure out just which player actually had the ball! The play was named for the threat of opposing players getting themselves trampled if they didn't get out of the way quickly enough! In that eventuality, the Noghri handing the ball (on their hidden side) to whichever player would make contact just before it happened - to satisfy the Referee!

As the Packers took their positions, Tim saw that Roon was being Started at Right Half Back (the position normally occupied by Glenn Lott) as Asyr had seen at least one Wookiee warming up by the Mercs' bench. Not that that prompted an immediate switch in tactics; the team starting off with 'The Bombardment' as normal.

Five minutes into the game 'The Bombardment' started to do its business, with the first of three 'Over-Bar' scores. By fifteen minutes in, the Packers' lead had grown to twelve points to nothing (a full-Goal via Jiva's head, plus six more 'Over-the-Bars'.

At that point, Mercs' players started trying to 'charge-down' the bounce-kicks, so the 'Charging Bantha' came into operation. At least to start with, it seemed like the Mercs didn't know how to combat this archaic Limmie tactic (one of the first old-and-discarded plays that the University's Professor of Limmie had unearthed from the dusty recesses of the Limmie archives room and helped bring up to date) which hadn't, seemingly, been seen for two hundred years! Even then it was of ancient origins, harking back into prehistoric times where the most advanced military weapons were swords, large shields (wood and metal, not energy!), spears and simple bows. Despite these limitations, the Power that had created it rose to become an Empire for the next four to five hundred years (or so the legends said) before their less organised opponents learned to sink their differences in favour of fighting together against their common enemy and brought that Empire down.

The first 'Charging Bantha' drive only produced an 'Over-the-Bar', the Mercs' Keeper blocking Allanabuck's shot onto the crossbar, with the rebound being volleyed back high between the uprights by Miles; but the next three all produced full-Goals (one a right-footed shot by Jiva, one by Miles - after a back-heel by Allanabuck - and the third, his first-ever score, by Dek). A final, opportunistic bounce-kick by Cachbarukh, just before the Half-time whistle, left the Packers standing at 23-0 to the good.

As the players were coming back out for the second-half, there was a hard pounding at the door and shouts of "ASF! Mr. Dodd, open up!". Tim was quickly whisked away to the ASF Academy main building, to hear that there had been a large explosion near to Oleg Sturm's Limmie-matchday HQ and Oleg was currently missing. His 2i/c had immediately, therefore, ordered Tim to be brought to a place of safety - unfortunately (from Tim's point of view) one without access to HSN, and he'd left his Datapad behind in his apartment!

It took over an hour for Oleg to be found (shaken but unhurt - he'd been protected by the 'fresher booth he'd been making use of at the time, but had been trapped inside it by fallen debris) and for the cause of the explosion to be determined. A junior (and temp) staff member at the eatery just behind Oleg's Tactical HQ (and into which Oleg had gone to use the facilities) had turned on all the cooking units in expectation of a rush of post-match orders, without realising that one of them was suspected of being faulty. There was no doubt about that now, but the eatery (and the junior staffers' future employment prospects) had been thoroughly wrecked!

It was not until all of that had been cleared up (and he was told that he was free to go home) that he heard the final score in the match, 22-23! His Packers had held on to beat the Mercs by just one point!

OOC/OOG: By agreement,
@Bardan_Jusik will describe the second-half's events from the Mando'ade Mercs' perspective. He has approved the above.

Anki left the team tunnel to the roar of the crowd. It was a huge game here at the BlasTech Gikosphere, the concrete domed wonder and home of the Coruscant Senators. The Gikosphere was the replacement, yet already aging, replacement for old Senator Stadium, the old stomping grounds of legends like Lysander Perkins, Gabblit Henwok, and even Jipoly Numifolis, the Clone Wars-era wonderboy for Team Coruscant. Teams feared this enclosure, the sound of the fans bouncing off its seemingly impenetrable walls to great effect. To Anki, it seemed like home.

He was out on the field with his teammates. There was Petra Givens, now a fellow Hall of Famer, standing there with her backfield mates in the lineup. There were the midfielders, the Yuli brothers, and their goofy antics off the field, yet serious style of play when they played the game. There was 19-year old Alaman Perkins, the son of the legend now playing for the team his father helmed and spent his entire 19-year career with, aiming to prove himself. Anki had no idea what year this was; it was unimportant. The game itself was important, nothing more. Across from them were the unmistakable uniforms of the Corulag Swoops, a team Anki had seen many a time when the two squads had clashed. The Swoops weren’t always the best team, but they played good Limmie when they felt they had a shot to win. And they would be bringing the thunder today, Anki knew. So he and his teammates would have to push them back.

Then the game began, fifteen players on one side going up against fifteen on the other. He made his move, dodging a defender as the ball came down the field. He could feel the excitement of the crowd, the adrenaline rush in his body, the feeling of the turf beneath his feet. Some people didn’t like the athletic turf here at the Gikosphere; they felt that artificial surfaces detracted from the game, and caused more injuries. But to Anki, and to those Senators who had never played at Senator Stadium, this was home. They would defend its turf to the bitter end, even if it did pose a health risk to them if they twisted a knee the wrong way or got their cleat stuck in a divet. This was sacred territory for them, their home field, their place of refuge when times got tough, a place of victory, a place where they were the home team and had the crowd support.

Anki shrugged off a bump-and-run attempt by the Swoop defender and made his way near the goal. The ball came in from one of the brothers to the Center Half. The Rodian then passed off to a human wing forward, who dodged a tackle and then passed to Anki in the post. The Twi’lek backed down a smaller defender and then turned around. He swatted away the hand of the full back and then picked his spot. He then pump faked to get the defender out of position, and finally let fly with an arcing shot that seemed to almost change directions in the air. The goalie was out of position to make a play, and the ball slammed into the back of the net.

The crowd began to chant his name, like they always had, and his teammates mobbed him. Anki gave them his usual smile; he scored enough times that when his teammates saw him grin like that, that he had done his job. It was infectious, to be sure. The “Anki Rysowt” smile was infectious these days, and all the rage. He just had that winning personality, a real leader as captain of the team, but also a real character on and off the field.

And then he looked into the crowd, his eyes finally stopping at the blue Twi’lek woman sitting two rows up from the goal. She, An’mari Rysowt, his wife, was standing with the rest of the crowd, clapping and yelling encouragement at him. This brought a tear to Anki’s eyes; she was so beautiful when they had first met, and he still thought so the last day he had seen her, when he was by her bedside as she passed on from this galaxy fifteen years earlier. He had been heartbroken that day, his life partner no longer being there to support him when he needed assistance. His Hall of Fame speech, given two years later, had been dedicated to her memory, and it had been difficult to give that part of the speech due to the emotions raging inside him. But now he looked at her, in her younger days, so full of exuberance and energy. He missed these days.

As the game progressed, Anki scored more and more points. A bar point here, a nice loose ball recovery there, and finally a goal scored on a skipping shot past the goalie’s fingers. The more points he scored, the more raucous the crowd got. It was getting intense in there, the volume level skyrocketing up as the Senators pulled away. Down on the other end, Petra made tackle after tackle, causing fumbles and general lethargy in the Swoop Front 6. No forward worth their salt wanted anything to do with “The Hammer”, as she was known. Petra was as fearsome as they got in the League, Anki knew, and would be that way for many more years to come. She was younger than he, but just as good, if not better athletically. And she was a good friend.

Finally, as the game wound down, the coach called in some substitutions, and Anki’s day was done. The crowd, when they realized that their captain was done for the day, gave him and the other starters a long ovation that lasted into the resuming of play. Anki sat down on the bench next to his teammates, nodded to Petra as if to say “Good Job”, and looked down the row as his teammates, his friends, his brethren, laughed it up as they took sips on their energy drinks and water and enjoyed each other’s company. He missed these days, when it seemed like they could conquer the galaxy.

Then the horn sounded, and Anki went out on the field to celebrate their win. Apparently this game was for the Galactic Cup, and so the Cup came out to the victors, the Coruscant Senators. Anki didn’t remember such stakes for this game, but he wasn’t going to complain. The Cup came to him, and he lifted it high in the air above his head, the crowd behind him 100%. Tears of joy were going down his face as he celebrated the title.

Beep! . . . Beep! . . . Beep! . . . Beep! went the heart monitor. In the hospital room, Anki’s oldest daughter was holding her father’s hand. Anki had long-since been unconscious, taking his final few breaths before he too would leave this galaxy. There were tears in her eyes as she felt her father’s pulse slow down with every passing moment. Her other siblings were here as well, Anki’s last remaining family members here to see him unto the end of his life. Their oldest grandchildren were here as well, but, except for the oldest, who was 15, they didn’t understand what Anki’s legacy was just yet. They were too young to remember, and too young to really understand what Anki, Petra, and those 220s Senators teams meant to the franchise, and to the fans. An’mari, unfortunately, was not there, having died many years earlier, so to the Rysowt children, this was the passing of both parents, both to health complications. Anki had lived a long life, but he hadn’t been looking so hot for the past few years, and the family knew that he was on his last legs. Also in the room was Petra, herself older and somewhat frail, but still wanting to see her life-long friend one last time, even though he was never supposed to wake again from his coma.

Anki handed the Galactic Cup off to Petra, giving her his trademark smile as he did so. She lifted it above her head as assistant captain, and then passed it off down the line. What a thing of beauty this was. Anki then looked back into the stands as An’mari cheered along with the rest of the crowd. He wanted to go over there and talk to her, but it felt like a void was opening up in the scenario. He could feel like all of his energy was being sucked out each passing moment.

Finally, the Cup came back to him, and he lifted it one more time. Then, he knew that it was all over. Life itself was slipping away from him, and he knew that he had finally lost the battle with time.

With his last thought, he looked over to An’mari one more time. “An’mari,” he said in his mental coma, “I’m coming . . . I’m coming.” His lips curled up into some semblance of a smile.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . . went the sound on the heart monitor as it detected no more pulse.

And so Anki Rysowt, great Senator captain, Galactic Cup champion, larger-than-life personality, Hall-of-Famer, died there in the hospital room, surrounded by family and friends to the very end, that quirky little smile that he had formed in his last moments now frozen on his face for all eternity as he stared up blankly at the ceiling of the room, his eyes, behind closed lids, no longer twitching, his heart no longer beating. His daughter held his now-limp hand for several more seconds before finally letting go. And, as Anki had thought to himself in those last moments, he was finally going to be reunited with An’mari somewhere in the cosmos, an achievement a long time coming for a man who had done so much not just for the Senators franchise, but for the planet itself. What a lucky man he was indeed.

The buzzing sound of the comlink on the endtable woke Gark from his slumber. He groggily reached over and picked up the device, checking the number on the caller ID. He would have to take this call, even though it was only 2 in the morning. He sat up wearily and then tried to slip out of bed as quietly as possible to not wake Me’lin, who was sound asleep on her side of the bed, facing the other direction. Gark tiptoed his way out of the room to also not wake Galin, who was asleep as well in his crib.

Gark finally closed the door to the bedroom and took the call. He listened as the news of Anki’s death came to him, and then replied that something would be done to honor the late captain as soon as possible. Gark had grown somewhat close to Anki and the other Senator greats as he reached out to try and connect the team he had built from the ground-up to the Senators teams of old. Anki, along with Petra, had both been ambassadors of sorts for the franchise, and had built relationships with the current generation of Senator players. Petra had given Dirxx Horstse, now a Hall-of-Fame player, some tips years earlier on how to add longevity to his career, and the Besalisk had taken that in stride. Meanwhile, it was well-known that Polis Vayne, the former assistant captain of the team and current Half Forwards positional coach, had spent quite a bit of time in the film room studying the games of Lysander Perkins and Anki himself to further his own offensive game out there on the field. All it had done was net Polis a Numifolis Award, two Salbukks, two Galactic Cup trophies, a spot in the Senator Hall of Fame and Ring of Fame at Andromeda, which had replaced the aging Gikosphere two decades ago, and had his number 15 retired by the team.

After the call ended, Gark did not return to bed, but instead went and sat down in the living room. In the darkness, he pondered the implications of all this. Another Senator great had passed . . . and he would have to be given his due. But how to do that . . . how to do that . . . Gark pondered as he stared through the darkness at the wall.

You recently made a kind offer of assistance regarding our problems here on Agamar.

If that offer is still open, I would very much like to accept it.

Forensic examination of items 'discarded' by our gunman (would-be assassin) indicates that he has spent considerable time (the results suggest he may have even been born) on the planet Aquaris, Cvetaen system, Sumitra sector; a location right on the border between the Republic and the Independent Systems. The planet has been a known hotspot of Smuggling and Pirate activity since the Palpatine era.

Intelligence has indicated that the Curr family took up residence in the former Aquaris Freeholders' Base (an underwater installation) when they fled Agamar.

It is not known if the Currs have turned to Smuggling and Piracy themselves or are using their customary strongarm/intimidation tactics to levy a 'Protection Fee' from others using that base.

We intend to raid the place in the near future, although we have to wait for specialised equipment and also for the Packers' match against Ylesia Lightning (in view of recent events on that world, almost all active ASF Officers will have to be deployed to ensure neither set of supporters attacks the other) but the border makes the operation problematic. Englobing the objective properly has the potential for causing a major Inter-stellar incident (us doing so unilaterally may be seen as an act of war) so I would like to propose a joint operation with either Republic or Bakuran Navy ships acting in concert with ours.

Our intelligence does not indicate the presence of any proper warships, heavy or otherwise, but Smuggler/Pirate ships usually have outsize armaments, so we will be planning for a worst-case scenario and assuming that at least one heavy warship is present.

IC: Lucie VigoIt was one of those days. The Starkillers just never found their rhythm. Lucie couldn’t help but keep hope alive. When a season began with 5 wins it was hard to imagine losing. The Starkiller faithful, the fans, were also steadfast. A halftime score of 15–3 did not deter them. Lucie was uplifted by their spirit during her squad’s half time performance. The feeling of defeat couldn’t escape her, the fans, or the players forever though. The first sign of desperation came from the players. Marmu stopped passing the ball. Despite her lack of ability to score today she pounded every ball that came in her direction toward the goal. Loren Jul appeared to be running up and down the field aimlessly. On the defensive end Ty and Dev began screaming and blaming one another for the balls that got through. While the young midfielders looked overwhelmed and frustrated. The only player who wasn’t showing signs of distress was Galaxy Defender; he seemed cool and confident back in the goal. Even as balls soared by him he never showed signs of distress.It was impressive the number of fans who stayed in their seats until the end. Lucie was proud to be out there for them, even if the team didn’t seem to deserve her efforts today. She was sad the Starkillers lost but did not allow it to deter her mood and made it a point to make sure the other dancers were in good spirits as well. In order to show appreciation to the fans Lucie and the entire squad stayed on the field until the last seat was empty. They even did a few make shift routines and got some cheers from the crowd several minutes after the game was over.It wasn’t until Lucie got back to her apartment that she heard any of Galaxy Defender’s comments on the game. As usual it wasn’t his comments on today’s game that were making headlines. He was already challenging next week’s opponent. “I hope the Miners enjoyed their little victory today against the Princess Squad. We won’t be going easy on them.” At least Abe Cynour hadn’t lost his confidence. Hopefully the Starkillers could pull out a victory next week. If Lucie had to travel all the way to Bakura she certainly didn’t want to do so just to witness another performance like the one today.Lucie had dinner with her family the night of the Starkillers first loss. She was expecting this visit to be easier than the previous visits. For a short time the visit did go well. Her mother had asked her ahead of time what she preferred to eat and seemed eager to please Lucie by having all the fresh fruits and vegetables she suggested on hand. Justyne was eager to see her sister as well. She had new pictures of the baby and revealed the news that she was expecting a girl. It was when her brothers joined them for dinner that trouble began to brew. Lucie was expecting to be grilled about the Starkillers loss. She also anticipated she would hear their disappointment for not being able to attend the game. Lucie’s access to free tickets had been put on hold when the Starkillers had gone 5 and 0 and owner Ira Clarke decided he wanted those tickets for extra profits. However, to her surprise her brothers weren’t talking about the Starkillers at all. In fact they weren’t even talking. Bat and Richard were obviously avoiding each other. Lucie watched first as Richard began to horde the condiments by his plate as if to force Bat to ask for something. Bat did not bother to ask his brother, he stood up walked around the table to where Richard was sitting grabbed what he wanted and took them back to his own seat. Lucie’s father tried to break the tension by asking Lucie about the freshness of the vegetables. He explained that they had just started buying from a new source due to a deal he had arranged at work to help local farmers on Ralltiir. Before she could finish chewing and get a word in about how much she liked them Richard got up form his seat walked around to where Bat was sitting took back all the condiments and knocked over Bat’s beverage in the process. The beverage spilled on Bat’s dinner and his lap. He immediately stood up grabbed a handful of soggy bread and threw it at the back of his brother’s head where it landed with a splat. Richard turned around with a look of disbelief in his eyes. Lucie thought for sure he was going to launch himself at Bat and on all out fight would break out. She watched as Bat reached for more of the soggy food on his plate and this time threw it directly at his older brother’s face. Richard ducked out of the way and the vegetable pieces Bat had grabbed hit the wall. “Bartholomew, sit down” Lucie heard her father roar. “Richard” he continued in a calmer tone. “Go wash up.”Richard was the one sibling who wouldn’t argue with his parents. Lucie could see in his face the unrest and anger that he was struggling to keep in. Before he left the dining room he looked at Bat and said “This isn’t over.”Once Richard left Lucie noticed that her sister was fighting back tears. She started to ask Justyne what was wrong, but her sister got up from the table and ran upstairs before she could finish. Lucie looked around the table at the remaining members of her family and decided to follow Justyne. When she got to Justyne’s room the door was not closed all the way and she let herself in. “What’s wrong?” Lucie asked cautiously. “Richard wants to blame Bat for everything that has happened to me.” Justyne explained. “He thinks that just because Bat knew Patten that Bat should have somehow prevented me from seeing him.” Justyne brushed a few tears away from her eyes and looked up. “Lucie Bat had no idea that I was seeing Patten until we were serious. Richard won’t listen to reason. I’ve never seen him like this. I wish there was something I could do. I hate seeing my brothers fight.”Lucie gave her sister a hug. She really didn’t know what else she could do. Then she heard her datapad buzzing inside her handbag and watched as Justyne fished it out and grabbed it for her. It was a message from Ty. He wanted to know if Lucie had some spare time this evening or tomorrow. Suddenly Justyne brightened just a little. “Are you seeing someone?” she asked. “Maybe” Lucie conceded.Lucie was surprised that her sister was genuinely happy for her and her prospects in life. She would have thought that to know she was happy when Justyne was alone and expecting would have upset Justyne. The two sisters shared their hopes of finding good matches one day and raising families of their own. Lucie was just saying goodnight to Justyne when they heard a commotion from downstairs. Both girls rushed to see what was going on. Richard was sitting cross legged and angry on the sofa in the main room. Their father was pacing by the front door. “What’s wrong?” Lucie asked.“Bat stormed out.” Her father said quietly. “He took my speeder.” “Dad doesn’t want to get Bat in trouble” Richard said speaking up. “He should call the authorities and report the speeder stolen.”Lucie could see anger in her father’s eyes that she never knew existed. “The speeder isn’t even missing” he said in a surprisingly calm tone. “Bat has given me no reason to suspect him of wrong doing since his arrest. He is your brother. You need to be more supportive instead of constantly provoking him.”There was a slight change of color in Richard’s face. He didn’t reply. Lucie asked her father if she should stay, but he wanted her to go home and get some rest. He assured Lucie Bat would come home soon and promised he’d call her when he did.On the air taxi ride home Lucie called Ty. He was in a dour mood and Lucie was not really interested in hearing someone whine about losing a Limmie game. She regretted making the call and did her best to tune him out while he pouted. “I’m sorry you lost,” Lucie was finally able to get a few words in “I’ve had a rather rough day myself and if all you are going to do is complain then I’m going to hang up.”There was a lengthy silence. Lucie began to worry she had upset Ty. Then he replied “Okay, so it was a bad day for both of us. Coach gave us the day off tomorrow. Is there a chance I could see you then?”Lucie agreed, she would give the dance team a day off and meet Ty after her morning shift at the restaurant. Thankfully her father called about an hour after she got home as well. Just as he suspected Bat was home. Lucie asked where he had run off to, but her father didn’t know. He suspected he just needed to get out of the house. Bat hadn’t been anywhere besides school and out to perform community service in too long he explained. Lucie was just glad he was safe and that this day was finally over.

The following message was delivered by hand to ASF headquarters shortly after a similar message was sent to Coruscant.

Dear Director Sturm,

I thank you very much for your recent note and the advance notice of ASF operations that it included. The reckoning of our astrocartographers places Aquaris well outside the boundaries of the Republic. In accordance with the Kattan Doctrine, which has guided Republican interstellar policy for the last half century, the Republic will not intercede in the internal affairs of non-member worlds without a tangible and present Republican interest in doing so. Given that the ASF incursion is related to the attempt on Mr. Dodd's life and has not been linked to a Department of Justice investigation (such as the one currently being pursued regarding potential Elite League match fixing), the Republican Fleet would be violating the sovereignty of Aquaris to participate in any joint actions at this time. I have personally alerted Republican High Command in my capacity as commander in chief to the ASF's actions and have instructed the Sixth Fleet to assume defensive posturing on the Republican border near Aquaris around the timeframe of the ASF's planned raid.

As I no longer hold any position in the Bakuran government, I cannot make any assignment of the Bakuran Defense Fleet without invoking the Sector Militia Act, which only provides for Republican command of a planetary or sector military force in a time of war. You may make a petition to the Prime Minister of Bakura, though I fear that given Aquaris's position on the opposite side of the Republic from Bakura such a serious request will likely not be granted.

I have, however, directed Republican Intelligence to increase its activities in Aquaris, pursuant to its charge to investigate potential threats to the Republic outside of its borders. Given the potential for a conflict between illicit elements and the ASF to escalate, I have determined that such investigations are appropriate and proper.

The Revolutionary War rivalry game between the visiting Chandrila Patriots and the Coruscant Senators was always a big game. It had been a spectacle for hundreds of years, matching an old Alliance hotbed against the old Imperial capital, and even though neither of those had existed for two and a half centuries, this rivalry continued. There was something about Limmie and its rivalries that went deeper than logic could ever hope to find. Many philosophers throughout that time had tried to utilize logic to understand why two fanbases could hate each other just because of a rivalry none of them had been alive to witness the birth of, and therefore tried to disprove team loyalty as nothing more than just fanaticism on the part of 15 players kicking a ball, many of them who probably didn’t originate from the planet whose team they represented. The fans, in response to these claims, basically said two words. Frak you, and left it at that.

But there was more to this day than just the game. It was hard to understand why this was the case, but for the Senators, yes, this was a big day. It was a day of remembrance, a day of honoring a legend now gone, a day to finally lay one of the boys of the orange and black to rest. Gark had spent the last few days trying to come up with something to honor Anki Rysowt, the Hall of Fame forward who had played here in the 220s and had been one of the greatest players in franchise history. Rysowt had died early in the morning days earlier, which had certainly snapped Gark’s sleep pattern when he received the news, and the continual question of how to honor such a legend in just a few days had been taxing to say the least. The Bothan had been taking long days at the HQ office to determine what would go down at the next home game, which happened to be today, and he found that it was draining him a little bit. Add in the stress of this game, with its major implications for both teams, and it combined to give him a headache. At least now it didn’t hurt so much, but he hoped as he stepped out onto the field that he had done the right thing.

“Please turn your attention to the field,” the PA announcer said to the fans. Gark strode out to midfield, right where the Senator logo was placed, and then began to speak into the microphone that the AV department had set up.

“This past week, the Senators franchise lost one of its legends. Anki Rysowt, a Hall of Fame forward famous for captaining this team in the 210s and 220s and capturing the 227 Galactic Cup title in his final season, passed away a few days ago from complications arising from old age. Anki was an ambassador of the franchise for the past few seasons, and his passing has been hard on those of us who were privileged enough to know him, and to consider him as a friend.”

On the jumbo screens around the stadium, Anki’s picture popped up, a shot from his playing days when he had seemed so full of life. He was lifting that Galactic Cup in the air, a long-time player who had finally won the Grail of the sport. Below the picture was his name and then the length of his life.

“I’m obviously too young to remember him playing on the field,” Gark said. “But his footprint on this franchise, on this planet, are unmistakable. When I got to know him over the last few years, he made a quick impression on me. He was headstrong at times, yes, but he also understood what it meant to be a champion, both on the field and off. But I’m obviously not the best person to ask about this. Instead, I would like to turn your attention over to someone who Anki impacted even more than myself. Introducing Polis Vayne, former Senators forward and current Half Forwards coach.”

Polis stepped up into view. “Thank you,” he said. “Hi there, everyone.” The crowd, at least not those dressed in green and white, cheered raucously for the former assistant captain’s entrance. The Patriot fans in attendance loathed Polis and the Senator franchise; while he had gone on and won two Cup titles in the past decade plus, they had been stomped on in the Elite League, relegated to the Premier League (which had caused a huge firestorm back on Chandrila amongst the Board of Governors – that hadn’t been pretty), almost went undefeated the following season before being bounced by a then- no-name Mercs team that then went off to the ELL the next season and competed immediately, got angered by the development affiliate trend in the league, helped form their own competition league, the GCLA, got trounced repeatedly in their own league, finally ran back to the Premier League for cover, got promoted to the Elite League again, got trounced last season yet again. They wanted blood in Hana City, and thus Polis was just another symbol of how the Patriots had fallen and the Senators had risen over the years. But that wasn’t important to the Senator faithful, who watched with baited breath as Polis began to speak.

“Anki Rysowt was one of my heroes as I was developing as a player. Around 261 or so, I knew that I needed to get better as a player to keep my job with the team. So I spent countless hours in the film room, studying the greats. One of the main idols I focused on was Lysander Perkins, but Anki really stuck out to me on film. He didn’t have that veteran ideal like Lysander did, but instead he had a different attitude. He was fearless going to the goal, like he knew that the sea of players in front of him would part and he could go down the crease untouched. It was amazing to see that man maneuver in the open field, and I took those things to heart. And I improved. Needless to say, without Anki Rysowt, I wouldn’t be standing here as a two-time champion with two MVP trophies and this coaching gig to my name.

I got to meet my hero a few years back, when he decided to join the franchise as an ambassador of the sport. He seemed very old, yes, but he was a wise man. I learned not just Limmie from him, but also things about life, how to live, how to act, how to retire gracefully. Trust me, I’m still working on that last one. But without him, I’d be a lot worse off than I am, and I am eternally grateful that I got to know and study him.”

“Thank you,” Gark said when Polis was done speaking. “Now, another person who was affected by Anki Rysowt. His teammate, and assistant captain on those 220s teams, and Hall of Famer, Petra “The Hammer” Givens.”

Petra, who was getting up there in age, walked gingerly to the center of the field. “Oh how long it’s been since I was a player in uniform standing here at midfield,” she said, obviously reminiscing in the experience as she spoke. “Anki and I were great teammates, but also good friends. Without him, I would have been captain.” Some laughs from the crowd.

“Honestly, though, he was a great mentor to me when I entered the league. I was young, impressionable, and thought that I could take on the whole galaxy myself. Anki showed me that it’s not all about one player on any particular team; “there is no ‘I’ in team”, he reminded me. With him helping guide me and the other young players, we got better. We only won one Cup, and went to two Finals, but we were a solid team a lot of the time. Obviously it was enough to get us both into the Hall of Fame, not just here, but also on Empress Teta.

It was a surreal experience being the assistant captain behind someone like Anki. He always knew what to do out there on the field, acted as a professional on and off the pitch. I learned many things about not just being a great player, but also about being a great person, from him. Even though we played on the opposite ends of the field from each other, we had this synergy that really ground the team in a solid base. Without him, that would not have been present, and I wouldn’t have done nearly as well as I ended up performing.

Even after our careers were over, we still stayed in touch. We would sometimes head out on a picnic or lunch retreat, dragging our families along with us. Those were some good times, hanging out with one of my best friends. We always loved watching Senator games on the HoloNet, seeing our former teammates finish their careers with a flourish. We were there when the 246 team . . . I’ll just say that it hurt us a lot, being former captains and players, to see that occur. But it didn’t shake our resolve. We did what we could for the team, in whatever capacity they needed us in. And we supported them, no matter the number of rough egos, or bad apples, or bum seasons that the team endured. Once a player, always a fan.

So now that Anki is gone, I feel like a part of me has disappeared as well. I’m going to miss that infectious smile of his, because that was part of our culture back in the day. When Anki smiled, you knew that he was in the zone, and that the opposing defense would be quivering in fear all game long. He just had that ability to get things done, and make it look easy. It wasn’t effortless, let me tell you, but for him it was. And that’s what I’ll remember about him most, the ease with which he dominated. And also because he was a good friend, a good mentor, and exactly what this franchise needed. Thank you for your time.”

The crowd exploded once again as Petra handed off the reins to Gark. The Bothan said a few more things, and then the video presentation began. It showed old clips of Anki as a player, him scoring goals, making the defense look foolish as Petra had iterated, and finished with a silhouette of him holding up the Cup. His face wasn’t shown in the last screencap, but his hands holding the Cup certainly were.

Anki’s family then was given a chance to speak. It took a while, since Anki’s children wanted to honor their father in the best way possible, but it was well worth hearing about the late player’s career and life after Limmie. When this was over, Gark took the microphone back.

“Thank you for your attention, and enjoy the game,” he said. The crowd applauded the team’s effort to put this presentation together, and Gark knew inside that although this may not have been perfect, they had done a damn fine job of pulling this off. Hopefully now the team would respond and win one for Anki. They could certainly use a victory here today.

It might only have been by a single Point, Tim thought, but what a difference the win over the Mercs had made. His Packers had shot up the table to stand in the Skywalker Conference's second place this week, and were the middle slot of the Results table (as, roughly, they also were for Points Scored, Points Let-in and Points-difference) for the entire Elite League. Euceron had won (again!) - a 33-5 victory over Corellia - and were still leading the Conference; but the previously underperforming Smugglers had raised their game last week to inflict a 16-38 defeat on Ylesia Lightning - the Packers' opposition this week - which was the main reason for the Packers' current lofty position.

It just went to underscore the difference between the TenGate Leagues he had been so familiar with (where each side played all the others twice, front-end and back-end, during each Season) and the Elite League's format. With TenGate, the end-of-Season results tended, in his opinion, to give a better indication of each team's actual ability and strength; Elite League Limmie was more of a chance-cube roll, week by week! Tim was pleased to see that the Bakura Miners had got back onto the credit side of the ledger with a 10-7 win over the C-Bucs (again narrow, but still a win). They still had a mountain to climb to get into contention for the play-offs; but, judging by their chosen escutcheon, Bakurans were somewhat familiar with climbing mountains! Tim still felt very guilty about what his Packers had done to the Miners, and wished the Miners every success for the rest of the Season!

Asyr (steeped in Limmie culture) couldn't understand why Tim should feel bad about inflicting blowout defeats on opposing teams and had tried to explain the interlocking hatreds to him. Equally steeped in TenGate culture (where all good play, even by opponents, was roundly applauded - even to opposition players receiving a 'standing-ovation' when they returned to the Changing Room after scoring anything more than fifty Taps or taking five Gates when Hurling - and sportsbeing-like conduct was more-or-less the norm) just couldn't understand how Limmie had got like that! It was only a game, was it not? Nothing to get too worked up about! Then too, he now carried (and had used) a Jedi weapon; and Jedi had many things to say about hatred - all of them to the effect that it was a bad thing to indulge oneself in!

Forewarned of probable delays en-route; he had arrived at Memorial Stadium at a ridiculously early time for this week's match, before 'Welcome' had even started playing (even with the soundproofing it had made him jump when it did).
As far as he could see on the local News-channel, it looked like the entire ASF had been deployed (in full riot-control uniform, no less; although their riot shields were not yet in evidence) in an effort to prevent any trouble from even starting. Thick ranks of black-uniformed figures were lining the entire route and heavy riot-control equipment was parked discreetly (but still in-view) on cross-streets.

Tim could hardly believe that the Agamarian Council had licensed the University Protest Group (which had now adopted the title of the 'Sentience Front') to demonstrate today, given the tension - but they had! Although the organisers (Professor of Xenoarchaeology Dua Juun, a Sullustan, and Visiting Professor of History Komada Vao, a Lethan Twi'lek), were both moderate beings, their students were young - and possibly fiery. The news reports clearly showed a group of at least two hundred non-human students (equipped with banners - which were furled at the moment) waiting for the Ylesia Lightning Shuttle to land and the team to disembark. Another, smaller, group (again with banners) was waiting at the entrance to Tondatha.

Asyr had concentrated on 'Charging Bantha' training during the week; not so much for the formation itself, that had worked well, but for the other players - most of whom were playing in unfamiliar positions while it was in effect. Asyr thought that that (combined with her decision to give the Reserves some extra pitch-time in the second half) was why the Mercs had got so close to overtaking the Packers' total in last week's game. Well, that 'mistake' would not be repeated today (substitutions would only be made for injuries) and, this time round, Roon would be on-pitch for the entire match; replacing Alice Hrakness in the Left-Half-Back position. The other team news of note was that Georg Sturm was back into training (although not match-fit yet).

As the Lightning and their supporters disembarked and made their way to the waiting public speeders, the Students at last unfurled their banners, while remaining absolutely silent! The (extra-large, extra-bold) slogans were surprising, to say the least:

"REMEMBER ALDERAAN!"

"REMEMBER TOPRAWA!"

"REMEMBER TONDATHA!"

As the Lightning's convoy (led and followed by ASF Landspeeders and overflown by ASF Patrol Cruisers) reached the outskirts of Tondatha, the group of Students there also unfurled their banners (again, printed in extra-large, extra-bold, characters):

"YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER TONDATHA;
POPULATION (0 ABY) - 2500; HUMANS, RODIANS AND OTHERS."

"MURDERED ON THE ORDERS OF PALPATINE - (0 ABY)!"

"THESE, THE RUINS OF THE HOMES WHERE THEY DIED, ARE THEIR ONLY GRAVES!"

Like their fellows at the Spaceport, this group was also absolutely silent!

IC: Falene TriesteMiners’ hotel, HapesFalene’s alarm went off for two mintues before she heard it and rolled over to turn it off. It was hard taking off in the morning on Bakura and landing in the morning on Hapes. It just screwed with your system so much that it was hard to wrap your head around it. She’d done her best to get some sleep on the shuttle, but it was hard. Everyone had known that they were going to see the second-ranked Solo Conference team and that didn’t help anyone’s peace of mind.As Falene got out of bed she found that her roommate was already up. She was standing in front of the hotel room window looking through the thin curtain out at the royal city. Alana’s hair was mussed from sleeping, so Falene couldn’t imagine that the captain had been up for long.“Hey,” Falene said as she untangled herself from her sheets and put her bare feet on the floor.“Hey,” Alana said. It was an unusually short reply from the captain. Falene got the distinct impression something was running around in her head.“Enjoying the view?” Falene tried.“Hmmm? Oh, what, no,” Alana said, “Just thinking.”“Anything interesting?” Falene asked as she stood up and stretched, feigning a lack of interest.“Dirxx Horstse and Meredith Chambers,” Alana said, without preamble, “Hall of Famers.” Alana tapped her lips with one finger pensively. “Multiple Galactic Cups between them. Meredith’s got a whole mantle full of awards with her name on them. Only thing she never won was an Ingbrand, I think. How many times did Horstse go to the Finals? Five? Six? Captain for 12 years of a Big Four team.” Alana let the thought sit.“No surprise that they were inducted as soon as they retired if you ask me,” Falene said.“No, none at all,” Alana said, “I played against them. They are my contemporaries. A bit older, but we gave each other our primes. They are the players I’ll be judged against when everything is said and done for me.”Falene stopped what she was doing and looked at Alana. “You’re worried about that?”“One Galactic Cup. One Final appearance. One Salbukk. One Duchess Eldin. That’s it,” Alana said, putting her head against the window, “That’s nothing compared to beings like them. Nothing.”Falene walked over to the window. “Midfield is a traditionally underappreciated position. You transformed it into a meaningful position. That doesn’t show up on a stat sheet. There aren’t even good stats for midfielders other than point differential, and that’s a passive stat. It says nothing about how you played, just what happened at the other ends of the field.”“You never played high school ball, did you?” Alana asked.“No…why?”“That was when I started playing. This wasn’t my life then. It wasn’t even my life in college.”“It wasn’t mine until college,” Falene offered.“But you know what it means to have had this game not matter at all until you were older, and then to have it mean everything. To have it be everything in your life,” Alana said, turning and looking at Falene for the first time, “Once it’s everything…then there’s no going back. No matter what you do, nothing will be as important as what you accomplished on the field.”“I don’t believe that,” Falene said, “I don’t.”“Yeah, and you’re not pissed off when we lose either,” Alana said. She sighed. “Come on, we have to get ready to make the bus.”Royal Limmie Grounds, Hapes(I’d recommend starting at 2:30)The Miners marched onto the field into the middle of what could only be described as a jolly good time. Though the Mollies were considered a musical bunch by Elite League standards (largely because two of their songs, “The Molly Maguires” and “Molly Malone”), the C-Buc fans had their own anthem that they brought to bear at the start of this game. That, and it seemed that some of them took the whole pirate motif quite seriously.Falene was glad that the Bakuran fans didn’t go to the same extremes or fans would be tromping stone dust throughout the Gardens in their attempt to replicate the look of a miner.Luckily, the Buccaneers kept a much cleaner appearance. In fact, as their adversaries for the game took to the field, their home blues were crisp and immaculate. Go figure that Hapans would make sure they were turned out nicely for even a limmie game, Falene thought. Then again, Falene reflected, she was an eighth Hapan herself thanks to her grandmother Maeve Connaught Trieste.The stories about Maeve Trieste were literally the stuff of legend in the Noble House. The Connaughts had been of a high enough social station that Maeve had been a player at the royal court. She was not, however, in the good graces of the Queen Mother. In what might consider typical Hapan station, Maeve had taken part in a plot to replace the Queen Mother and though the details had been lost to time it had apparently not been a peaceable plan of action. Maeve had realized that things were going south soon enough to make a hasty retreat—and a very long one. When the vibroaxe fell (and Falene suspected that happened rather literally), Maeve Connaught had broken the boundaries of the Consortium. She knew that to survive a failed coup meant that there was no other choice but exile.Why Maeve settled on Bakura was a question to which there was no answer. It was plenty far from the Hapes Consortium, that was for sure, and it was an overwhelmingly human population. Perhaps that was enough for Maeve at the time. Come to Bakura she did and with her political inclinations intact. That led her straight to the bosom of the center-left Fianna Fail party. Maeve knew that while she could live on Bakura, elected office was beyond her as a non-Bakuran in those days. She did the next best thing by marrying Lennon Trieste, who was then a young Salis D’aar Senator. In hitching her freighter to that star she did well, for Lennon rose through the ranks of the parliamentary leadership to the vaunted position of Deputy Prime Minister. That was as far as he would get. In his one and only bid for Prime Minister Lennon withdrew his name from consideration at the planetary convention despite coming in second in the initial balloting. Much Trieste family lore speculated as to why Lennon had done so. There was plenty of scuttlebutt that someone had something on him that would have been made public had he pushed forward. Or perhaps Lennon didn’t want to be the first Trieste to lose in a Prime Ministerial election. Then again, perhaps when all was said and done he and Maeve decided that controlling the legislative agenda was more prestigious than occupying Marian Square.Make no mistake, Maeve was an equal partner in her husband’s work. She might not have been elected, but she brought all of her cunning to bear in Lennon’s career. Though she held no official position in Fianna Fail, anyone who was involved with the party knew that getting on the wrong side of Maeve Trieste was a very bad idea.No one experienced this as much as her children, especially her firstborn Fionn Dunross Trieste. It was no secret that Maeve dreamed great things for her son. It was also no secret to those who knew Fionn Trieste he dreamed of no such things of himself. It was only through sheer force of will that Maeve got Fionn to complete a Political Science degree at UB Salis D’aar (and what else would someone destined for greatness in the Noble House study?). However, her will could not take him any further. Fionn had blasted off from Bakura after quasi-stealing a family ship for a career very unlike the one his mother wanted for him. He rarely returned to Bakura, largely because of he did not want to be hectored by his mother.Maeve Trieste’s political accomplishments were great, but she was solidified as legend thanks to the Neo-Sith War. The occupation of the then-unaffiliated Bakura had been brutal and the Houses of Bakura had taken the brunt of the occupation. The Noble House was no exception. Maeve Trieste, however, had not survived a coup on Hapes to be oppressed by Sith invaders.That was one of the few things the stories agreed on. Because no Trieste on Bakura would survive the occupation, there were many stories of Maeve Trieste from that period, some of which were seemingly too fantastic to be true. But the facts from the few Bakurans who survived were clear. Maeve Trieste had gone underground with her family and had led a guerilla resistance movement to frustrate the Sith. She did enough damage to garner serious attention from the occupiers. When they found her, she met a grisly and public end along with every other Trieste they could find. And in every account Maeve Trieste did not go gently into that good night.That is the stock from which I am made, Falene reflected as she took up her position for the start of the game.Lined up across from her was the C-Bucs’ captain, Wai-Lin. Unlike the rest of the Buccaneers, Wai-Lin was a veteran player. She’d put in a lot of years in the second tier of leagues just below the Elite League. She was more than capable. She might not be a Wookiee or a giant of a human like Abrams, but Wai-Lin was no less dangerous. In fact, she was probably more dangerous because she was smart and she knew what it took to win. Needless to say, she was one of the best players on the Hapan offense.“I’ve never played against a Chancellor’s daughter before,” Wai-Lin said as they waited for play to begin, “I hope it will be as interesting as I expect.”Before Falene could reply, the game started. Honey Ryder had secured the opening possession and whipped the ball up to Wai-Lin, who had separated from Falene to work the high offensive zone. Falene had followed the center half forward and a second after Wai-Lin made her reception Falene hammered her with a tackle right in the midsection, which separated Wai-Lin from the ball. A swift boot by Wizmark sent the ball up the field to the Bakuran offense.Falene got to her feet. “That interesting enough for you?” she said, looking down at Wai-Lin.“It’s a start, whelp,” Wai-Lin said as she got to her feet and began running down field.Falene was right next to her.The bolo-ball sailed into the Miners’ end and was received by Falene in a clean, neat interception. The moment the ball hit her hands, she knew what was going to happen. Wai-Lin wrapped her up and absolutely dropped her to the turf. Falene held on though and shoved the ball towards T.K., who scooped it up on the run with one long reach before passing it up the field.It wasn’t a flashy play and it wasn’t going to show on the scoreboard, but it was the kind of play this game had been made of on both sides. It was a hard game and a tight one at that. The amazing thing was that the Miners were still in it. After weeks of being as porous as an asteroid field, Falene and the rest of the defenders were actually playing pretty well. Right now everything was tied up at 7-7 and that was not something that Falene was going to complain about. They were holding firm in the back, but it had been a tough day up front for Aron Rodders and the crew.By the time Falene was on her feet again, Honey Ryder had reversed the play back towards the Miners’ net. This time it didn’t come near Falene, but instead went towards Amasova. Falene watched the ball and immediately the wheels in her head spun and clicked. She disengaged from Wai-Lin—a risky move given the veteran’s prowess—but she was sure she knew where Amasova was going to go with the ball. If Falene timed it right, she’d cut off the Buccaneer attack.Sure enough, Amasova looked for a crossing pass to one of the Mastersons and fired with tunnel vision. She didn’t see Falene step in for another interception and the already moving Trieste had momentum on her side. She punted the ball up field, over the midfield, and into the waiting arms of Morlan. Playing in front of her home crowd, the Hapan had not had a good day. However, she handled this pass easily, fought off the Buccaneer defender, and rocketed a pass across to a streaking Alesh. The other Hapan headered the ball on the run right past Montes for a goal.The Miners team erupted. They had a lead and time was ticking off. Falene high fived Wizmark in celebration. Before her palm even stopped stinging, Nelly called out, “Coming back! Coming back!”Valerii had no timeouts with which to stop the game and refocus her team. The Miners could have used one because Mallory wasn’t about to take one herself. Her team was charging up the field and Falene fell back to cover a now-suddenly deep Wai-Lin. The wily veteran was running all over, reversing on Falene on a dime and trying to shake her. Falene kept one eye on her woman and another eye on the play. She was playing conservatively now. There was no thought of the interception, just denying Wai-Lin the ball. Falene knew that it was going to come to the veteran at some point. She was their star and down by three with seconds left in the game, you wanted to get the ball to your star.The C-Bucs got the ball deep to one of the Mastersons, who reversed back to the half forward line. Then they went crossfield, over Falene’s head, moving Jorpik laterally in goal. It was a good move as side-to-side movement for a goalkeeper could be difficult to pull off. As Falene had anticipated, the ball came back over to Wai-Lin, who was cocked and ready. She met the pass with her foot and rocketed the ball towards the goal.Towards the goal, yes, but not there. Instead it collided with Falene’s chin. Though Falene had been trying to take it in the chest, the chin would do, even if it hurt like none other. The ball bounced off in some direction that wasn’t towards the Miners goal as Falene crumpled to the turf, clutching her jaw. She didn’t know exactly what happened after that, only that the horn sounded and that she’d won the game.Falene got to her feet before any of her teammates could come over to help her up. The first one there was T.K. “Damn girl! I know they say your mom’s hard-headed, but you’ve got a jaw of durasteel in there or something!”The rookie defender worked her jaw around a bit, testing it. “Lucky me then.”“You okay?” Wizmark asked, clasping Falene on the back.“Ask me tomorrow,” she said, “And Tunross better get me some aspirin or something.”“Well you’re going to have a nice pretty welt there I can already tell you,” Nelly said.As the Miners congratulated each other on staving off certain playoff elimination for one more game, Falene looked up into the stands. She hadn’t been able to look for the last four weeks, but this time she could hold her head high. Sure enough, she found her family with the Queen Mother. It seemed something was going on in there. Her mother was pulling something out of a box.It turned out to be a miner’s helmet, which the Chancellor extended towards the Queen Mother with a smile. The Hapan royal accepted the helmet and placed it on her head, mussing up her veil in the process. She turned towards the crowd in the stadium and shrugged with a smile. Falene was pretty sure that she knew what her Mom had bet the Queen Mother over the outcome of this game. Something told her that there was a second box in the Queen Mother’s box and that Falene knew the contents of that. Falene was proud today that her mother didn’t have to wear it.When Falene got back to the locker room, the mood was markedly lighter than it had been in a month. Everyone was smiling and laughing and high fiving each other. Falene had actually forgotten how good it felt to win.She hadn’t even sat down when Gaeriel Valerii walked in, clapping. “Now that’s how we play some limmie!” The team cheered and hollered. “It wasn’t a pretty game, but we came into their house and we kicked some tail today!”“Yeah we did!” T.K. said.“This is the first step in the journey everyone. We focused on today and we conquered,” Valerii said, “Now it’s time for the next step. We go home and we get a win there. And when we do, then I think the galaxy will unanimously say we’re in the playoff hunt.”Falene smiled. Yeah, they got Galaxy Protector next week. It was shaping up to be quite a game.TAG:
@Runjedirun

With a rising fury Taab barely restrained himself from putting his fist through the holo-screen. 23-0 at halftime. This was a replay of the Starkillers match, or the friendly against Bakura. Yes the Packers were using some rather unorthodox tactics out there, but the Mercs should have been able to adapt and overcome. It was an embarrassment, the team seemed to have no life to it, and played as if their minds were elsewhere.

It didn't take too much imagination guess where that might be. Despite his best efforts rumors of the assassination attempt and the executions that followed had leaked out. Taab was slowly losing his grip on power, and everyone knew it. The Mercs were no longer providing a beneficial distraction. If this sort of play kept up, they would be more a hindrance than a help.

His wife had of course gone on the road with the team, leaving Taab alone here. It was an effort to ward off any further coup attempts, though at the moment Taab wished his enemies would just come right out and try to kill him. Born in misery, his rule had done nothing yet to turn things around. The scars left on his people's psyche by the attack on MandalMotors Hall could not be healed until the criminals were brought to justice. His team was in a shambles, unable to score and unable to defend, their record stood in defiance of the metrics. But maybe that was worth something as well. Right now he and the mando'ade could use a little defiance too.

Taab watched on the holo as the teams took to the field for the second half. Despite the score their body language didn't seem dejected or defeated, at least as far as he could see. Rather they looked fired up, ready to take on the challenge of a huge deficit. From the Mercs first possession things were different. The first thing to be noted was the abandonment of the spread formation, the Mercs simply took the ball and jammed it down the Packers throats. It was smash mouth meshgeroya again, like in the Merc's first years in the league, and it was working.

It first led to Fortuna bar point, followed up on their next possession by a three pointer from Fi. The smash mouth style was slower, but it helped to maintain ball control and didn't yield as many turnovers as the spread offense had. And it was slowly racking up points. On the defensive side of the ball, all care for finesse was gone. It was hard hits followed up by more hard hits and them the Packer's forwards were hit again.

The first time it happened Taab held his breath. League officials, minions of the fuzzball commissioner, had always had it in for the Mercs. It had been a bone of contention between not only Taab and the League office, but the Referee's Union as well, for years now. But the referees let them play on, and the hits kept on coming. Now it was the Packers turn to become frustrated as the rough play disrupted their offense.

By midway through the first half the Mercs had climbed somewhat back into things, down by a score of 23-10 at least they were no longer being shut out. But things were starting to slow down again for the Mercs as the Packers adapted to the slower style of play. The Mercs were still scoring points, but not fast enough to make a difference. Taab watched as a time out was called by Vizsla, and after that timeout the formations changed again. The Mercs were back to playing spread, and were racking up points ow against a weary and beat up defense. As the half winded down the Mercs had closed the gap to 23-20 and the Mercs were charging again.

Daryc let fly a shot towards the back of the net but it was deflected by the Packer's goalkeeper. The ball ricocheted to Daryc who put it over the bar for a single point. The clock was continuing to wind down, but now a three pointer would win it for them. As the Packers started their next possession, Mor'kesh intercepted the ball and passed it up field. The midfielder had been mostly marginalized throughout the match, so it was good to see him on the stat sheet somewhere. The ball went to Daryc, and then to Fi, then back Fortune before making it's way back to Daryc who put it over the bar for another point. 23-22 with less than a minute left.

The Packers went to play "keep away" with the ball, but Ro'val managed to wrestle it away from a Packers midfielder and again the ball was moving up field. Fi, to Cabur to Daryc who passed it up to Fortune. Taab leaned in forward towards the holo-screen, all of this passing made him nervous, it was too easy to lose the ball The Mercs forwards continued to play their game though, waiting for the best shot. Even a tie would be a victory at this point, after all the Packers offense had been shut down all half. Still the Mercs had to get a shot off before time ran out

Their chance came as Fi threw the ball across the field to A'den, beating the defense. The Packers goaltender quickly shunted over into position, but A'den dumped the ball back to Daryc who took a shot at a wife open empty net. It sailed forward on it's arc before a loud CLANG resounded through the stadium. The ball had struck the cross bar, not into the back of the net, nor going over. It rebounded back into the arms of a Packers back and then the final horn sounded. The Mercs had come up short.

Back in his office, Taab let out a roar. Down 23-0 his team had held the Packers scoreless through the entire second half and had made an amazing comeback only to fall short at the last second. Coach Vizsla had switched things up enough to get the team back into it, and at least make the score respectable. But a loss was a loss, and a team's success was measured in victories. This one would not sit well with mando'ade. Taab stood now, shaking his head and roared again as he put his armored fist through the holo-screen. Just as it just had for the Mercs he knew his time was also running out.

Ryi Kor'leNabat, Ryloth

Ryi and Kote kept up their guard as they moved through the under levels of the small twi'lek city of Nabat. Their journey here had gone quickly and easily. Bliznetsi's body was kept cold in the Firespray's cargo hold and upon their arrival on Ryloth they had acquired a repulsor-cart with which to move the recently deceased twi'lek to his home. Fortunately no one challenged them as to their purpose here, because carting around a dead twi'lek would have been difficult for the Mandalorians to explain, but as they had become accustomed, most beings gave them a wide berth.

The city itself was dark and dusty, much of it was built in underground tunnels. Their winding arrangement would do well to deter attackers and reminded her much of the streets of Keldabe, though at least these were marked for ease of navigation. Still, they lent themselves to ambushing of an unaware target so she and Kote kept their heads on a swivel, looking out for any would be attackers. Whoever had killed the twi'lek might still be interested in him, and those investigating his death.

But they seemed of interest to no one as they finally made their way to the address indicated on Blizneti's guild card. Ryi rang the bell while Kote (who had been pushing the cart) came forward to stand beside her waiting to be admitted. There was no answer, no indication that anyone had heard the chime. Ryi rang again, but the lack of response was the same so Kote knocked. Again there was nothing. "Maybe no one is home," Kote said as Ryi wondered what they would do next. She was about to respond when the door swung open slightly and the form of a young twi'lek girl's face could be seen peaking around it.

The youngling, she could have been no more than 5 standard years old, ignored the armored mercenaries before her and just stared at the repulsor-cart. She motioned towards it and spoke with a small voice. "Is that my Papa?" Kote regarded the little girl strangely for a moment. He seemed to be at a loss, something Ryi had never seen from him. She took the initiative and seeing no reason to sugar coat things responded simply. "Yes, we need to speak with an adult."

The doorway swung open wider to reveal a female twi'lek closer in age to the deceased bounty hunter. "Uma, I told you not to answer," she scolded the young green skinned girl. "Now go get back in the house." Uma scurried away and the woman came outside, closing the door behind her. She too pointed at the shroud covered cart. "My husband?"

Kote threw back the shroud displaying Bliznetsi's body. The woman gasped and started to sob quietly. "At least now I know." She hung her head, looking at the ground now as Kote covered the body up again. "I knew his job would catch up with him eventually," She looked back up into Ryi's T-Visor. "Did you kill him?" Ryi shook her head slowly. "No, but we may be looking for those who did. We need to know any associates he had, or any jobs he told you about."

The twi'lek had a blank look on her face for a moment, tears continued to stream down her beautiful green face. Ryi took a step in closer to her as Kote looked out into the streets, pulling security now. Bliznetsi's wife snapped out of it and spoke again. "He never told me exactly what he was doing. He just sent us back the money for his jobs."

Ryi regarded her more closely, trying to determine whether or not she was telling the truth. She didn't want to have to torture this woman within screaming distance of her child. "Is there anything, anything at all you can tell us?" she prodded. "It's important."

"He told me to never tell anyone, but I guess his wishes don't matter anymore." She glanced around furtively before whispering. "Most of the time he worked for a Hutt crime lord. Pza is his name." She leaned in even closer to Ryi now. "But he recently was speaking more and more with a man, a human. I never knew his name or what he did but he seemed...stiff. Not an easy going man at all. He called often, from Corellia I think. He called again, a few months ago. He seemed upset that my husband wasn't here. My husband kept recordings of the holo-transmissions, though the man told him not to." She glanced back towards her door. "You brought me his body, you can have those copies if it will help you find his killer."

Ryi nodded again as the woman went back inside to fetch them.

"You ever think about having kids?" Kote asked her as soon as the woman was out of earshot. Ryi spun around. "What?"

"That little girl got me thinking, about kids and having a family. You ever think about that sort of thing?" Ryi punched him in the shoulder. "Just stop, we have a job to do."

The woman returnd now, with a data crystal. "This has what you need. I hope it helps."

Ryi palmed the crystal and the pair of Mandalorians left, leaving the body with the grieving widow. They made their way back topside, silent until they reached the confines of their ship.

"What do you think we will find on that crystal?" Ryi shook her head. "I don't know." She plugged the crystal into the Rogue's computer, "but let's find out." Most of the crystal was encrypted, but a small blue image did appear before them. They both whistled at the recorded hologram's appearance.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Ryi Kor'le didn't disagree. She had one now too...

Taab watched sullenly behind his T-Visor as the Sullustan installed his new holo-screen. The aruetii and his equipment had been thoroughly screened by the Protectors, but still Taab took no chances. Throughout the process he planned on just how he would kill the being should he turn violent. A knock came at his door, it was Coach Vizsla returned from Agamar.

"Lord Mand'alor, I have news for you." Taab inclined his head preparing to give the man permission to speak but hesitated. Vizsla had called him by his title, this wasn't team business. Leaving the aruetii under the watchful eyes of the Protectors, Taab replied to Vizsla "Walk with me," before heading out into the hallway. Taab placed his buy'ce over his head now, Vizsla soon followed suit and openned up a secure comm line.

"I have spoken to my brother. He and his...associates are most displeased by your apparent lack of progress concerning the bombing."

Taab did his best to remain unaffected by the news, but the sudden shuffling of his feet gave lie to his calm. This was not good news, he immediately used his HUD to scan around him. Coach Vizsla knew the security procedures here, was this the first move of an attempt on Taab's life?

"They are prepared to move against you. I have managed to convince him to give you more time Lord Mand'alor. But consider this a warning. Time is short, the people are restless and they expect results."

"And where do your loyalties lie?"

The pair paused for a moment in the corridor, regarding each other through their T-Visors. "With the Mand'alor, whoever that may be," Vizsla said before starting to walk off. "Now if you will excuse me. I have a game to prepare for."

Taab watched him walk off, now more unsure of himself and his position than ever before.

Periodically throughout the course of the season, we’ll be giving updates on all 12 ELL teams with all the snark we can muster. This time with musical accompaniment!

We assume they picked this because everyone's playoff hopes are stayin' alive. Except for Rydonni Prime. Their hopes and dreams have been utterly crushed.

Agamar Packers: This game was a perfect microcosm of the Packers season. In one half turn in a sparkling, dominating performance. In the other half, nearly blow the whole shebang. Force, we love it when teams give us neatly wrapped up storylines like that! It means we can totally slack off at work and look at pictures of Iktochi on the Holonet. Look at how cute they are!

Bakura Miners: The Miners held the C-Bucs to 7 points this week. There’s only one logical explanation for this. Quinn Cundertol sold his soul to the Force ghost of Palpatine in an attempt to save the Miners’ season. Just kidding! The Mighty Quinn doesn’t have a soul to sell anyone.

Chandrila Patriots: Do you know what nobody’s talking about on Chandrila? The fact that Avano Koobis might just be the next great captain in Patriot history. Though it took a year for her to adjust to the burden of leadership in the Elite League she is now looking like the first successor to the legacy of Strensky and Kether. Koobis just might make our Salbukk ballots at the end of the year. But first she has to chalk up her first Revolutionary War win. And Reina Kether knows a little something about collecting those.

Coruscant Senators: You know how we were wondering if these Senators had what it takes? Well, bumping off the only undefeated team in the league by 17 points might have just answered that question. Maybe Gark S’rily knows what he’s doing. Get it? Maybe Gark really knows what he’s doing? And his last name is S’rily, which sounds like really? You have no idea how super proud of that pun one of our interns was. Speaking of which, INTERN! MORE CAF!

Euceron Storm: Hey Aebatt! So remember how you fought for a longer season at the Board of Governors meeting this season? I bet you’re regretting that now that you’re 5-1 and would have a playoff spot locked up. Instead, the Storm still have three games to pull their usual antics. Seriously, great job Aebatt.

Hapes Consortium Buccaneers: Before everyone gets all “the stars are falling” on the C-Bucs, let’s remember that Camille Montes looked outstanding, holding an Aron Rodders offense to 10 points. Then again, considering the way this season has gone for the Miners, that’s not as impressive as that would have been had she done it a year or two ago.

Mando’ade Mercs: Aay’han Vhett fought tooth and nail to stay in the Solo Conference. If she had won, she’d be in fifth place behind three 4-2 teams that have a full game on the Mercs. In the Skywalker Conference she’s in a playoff spot. So in other words, Aay’han Vhett is exactly the being you want making long term decisions for your limmie team. Beskaryc Taab should sign his wife to a jillion year contract as GM right now.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: What the what? The Smugglers utterly destroyed the reigning Numifolis Award winner in goal and they held their offense to 16 points? Tover Micjaa clearly just needed 5 games to get his space legs. I mean it’s not like anyone expected one of the greatest coaches of the last 20 years to start winning immediately, right?...what’s that Kaitlyn Vehn? You did? Oh well in that case…ummm…Konrad Dvorak sucks (but less than usual this week).

Ralltiir Starkillers: And so the winning streak ends. Let the anti-Galaxy Protector Unanimous bandwagon begin. We figure that it will probably collapse under the collective weight of the entire galaxy approximately .00000000000000000001 seconds after the bandwagon gets going.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: Setarcos, we’ve called you here today because we’re your friends. Okay, so we’re not really. We’re your ex-coworkers…so I guess that means we’re kind of less friends and more quasi-acquaintances. Anyways, this is your intervention. We’re really concerned about you. You’ve got a better point differential than the Miners and yet you still haven’t won a game. This needs to stop. Especially because that office we were going to give you just got condemned by Republican workplace health and safety officials. And we are not giving the trampoline room up.

Ylesia Lightning: The Lightning have lost their last three. That’s exactly how long the protests have been going back on Ylesia. So yeah, clearly the Lightning players have absolutely nothing on their mind right now that might be distracting their play.

This is what we get for letting our interns talk us into adding music to our pieces. We're pretty sure that they were deceiving us when saying it would "add to the journalistic integrity of our writing," and that it would really "add to the intern's ability to have a dance party." We'll get you next week interns!

“We need to play some tight defense against the Storm, Konrad,” Kaitlyn said as she sat in a conference room at one end of a very long, black, oblong, table.
Konrad, sitting at the other end of the table, looked at Kaitlyn and smirked. “Doing the best I can.”

“Your best has nearly played us out of contention for the playoffs,” Kaitlyn said.

“Not my problem,” Konrad replied.

“I’m about to make it your problem if you can’t turn this team around,” Vehn said.

Konrad looked out the windows of the hotel at the cityscape of Euceron and then returned his attention to his boss. “I’m not the one with the problems here. You are. You need to clean up your mess, Kaitlyn.”

Kaitlyn shook her head, flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Clean up your mess.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know why they fired you,” Konrad said referring to Kaitlyn being forced to leave the RTO behind.

Kaitlyn felt an icy chill crawl down her skin. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong about this entire conversation. She couldn’t remember how this meeting had started. Couldn’t remember how she got here. Something was wrong. She had called this meeting to talk about the team’s performance, not have her own dirty laundry made the topic of conversation. Somehow, someone had told him what had happened. Somehow he knew. But that wasn’t right. He couldn’t know what happened. Couldn’t even fathom but here he was sitting across from her and looking into her eyes, into her soul.

How did he know?

Get out! Get out! Get out! Kaitlyn thought.

“We’re done, Konrad. See you at the game tomorrow,” Kaitlyn said as she stood and hurriedly grabbed her personal items off the table.

“That’s right, Kaitlyn, you run away like you always have. Run away from your problems. You really think they’ll forgive you? You really think that by clearing your name you can go back home and see your boy, sleep next to your husband at night? I know what you did, Kaitlyn. Everyone knows.”

She froze in mid-step, heart pounding, breathing escalating out of control. She turned to face Dvorak, say something that would really get him to shut up but her eyes feasted on a new sight, an uncomfortable sight, a sight she had tried to forget.

There they were, the Tribunes of the Roon Trade Organization towering over her, sneering, laughing, and repeating those words that had burned the deepest, darkest, most hurtful hole in her mind, over and over again.

“You’re fired.”

Kaitlyn awoke with a start. Sweat oozing across her skin onto the hotel sheets. She realized she had been clenching her fists the entire time she had been dreaming. She looked over at the chrono and punched a button. It flashed 02:30. She’d only been asleep for a few hours but it felt like an eternity.

She closed her eyes, could still hear the voices, and could see the open defiance written all over Dvorak’s face. Her subconscious challenging her to a duel of the mind and she had lost, she’d run, like she always had before. She’d been running for a long time. Partly to protect her family and partly to protect herself and now here she was the owner of a Limmie franchise without one frakking clue as to how to build a contender. So she’d done the smart thing, the responsible thing, and hired people who did.

What a nightmare.

She opened her eyes, looked up at the boring ceiling, counted all the dimples in the surface above and slowly shook off the dream. It was just a dream, after all. There wasn’t any truth to the matter, right? But deep down there was a certain truth to her dream. There was a certain truth about the entire affair. She hadn’t handled her problems responsibly and now she was being punished. Punished not only in the waking hours of the day but also in the darkest depths of sleep and all because she had run like a coward, run away from those who had threatened her life, her family.

She remembered.

Nine months ago, Druckenwell

The wreckage of Alexander Speyburn’s ruined fleet continued to cascade in scorching lines through the atmosphere of Druckenwell like an industrial waterfall of light and sound, of dead dreams, of an idea that could be no more.

Kaitlyn watched as piece after piece of the rebel leader’s once invincible armada disappeared beyond the horizon in the blood-red lighting of a setting sun. It was the ending of a day. It was the moment of victory. And it was the beginning of the end. She could feel the political pressure to relinquish her emergency powers growing day by day. The Tribunes wanted a return to the way the RTO was before this crisis. To the days of making money and as Kaitlyn watched her enemy burn before her very eyes she knew that there was no going back, there was no returning to those days, but the Tribunes didn’t see it that way and that was the problem. That had been the problem since the beginning. They hated her and she knew it.

She heard footsteps, armor clanking against armor, and the sound of rifles being raised into firing position.

She closed her eyes.

Her time had come.

“Kaitlyn Vehn, by order of the Board of Tribunes, you are hereby terminated from your position as Chairwoman of the RTO,” the Tribune from Druckenwell stated.

“What are the charges against me?” Kaitlyn asked not missing a beat and opening her eyes with a flurry.

“Failure to relinquish your emergency war powers. Failure to consult the Tribunes on the decision to allow Naboo to rejoin the Republic. Violation of the RTO Charter regarding a military alliance with the Hutts. And last but not least a failure on your part to
make sure that all business is handled as smoothly as possible. We find that your leadership has been lacking.”

“The war ended some time ago. It took you gentlemen awhile to condemn me,” Kaitlyn said.

“It was not an easy decision to make.”

“Clearly,” Kaitlyn replied in a sour tone.

“Please leave the building at once.”

“And so I shall,” Kaitlyn said as she brushed past the armed guards.

“Oh, one more thing,” the Tribune said.

Kaitlyn stopped in mid-stride. “Yes?”

“You are to be banished from the RTO. Where you go is up to you but you are to never return. Should you return, well, let us just say that we cannot guarantee the safety of your family. Also, it would be in their best interest if you disappeared quietly, without a struggle and kept any contact with them in the future to a minimum.”

Kaitlyn felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. It was bad enough to be terminated from her position but to have to leave Druckenwell, leave her home, leave her family behind, unthinkable, unimaginable. Now she knew fear. Now she knew how her enemies must’ve felt before the very end. Now it was truly over for her.

“Will you let me say goodbye?”

The Tribune from Druckenwell looked at Kaitlyn and shook his head.

Eusebus, Euceron

Kaitlyn watched as the game between the Smugglers and the Storm was about to begin. Both teams were headed in different directions and both teams couldn’t be more opposite statistically. The Storm had the league’s best offense. The Smugglers had the league’s worst defense. On paper the Storm looked to be the better squad. And that was true, this season, they were. But game day was one of those things were anything could happen. The Smugglers needed a miracle and as Kaitlyn watched the opening drive of the game, she suddenly realized that she needed one too.

She punched in a comm. number and waited for a voice to pick up on the other end.

“This is Kaitlyn. Look, I know we’re not supposed to—yeah, that’s right, I need a favor."

(Consider this an artistic interpretation of the current state of all of our teams. It is not in any way intended to affect any storylines.)

The night before Week 7 games

ASF Headquarters, Calna Munn, Agamar

Tomorrow was game day. The Packers stood at 3-3. This game could be the turning point for the entire season. The ASF was preparing for one of their largest police efforts of the season with Ylesia coming to town. They expected some major protests on Agamar thanks to what was happening on Ylesia.

But something else was bothering the investigative division. The sports drink poisoning case was still sitting on their desks. Undermining the Packers in their Elite League debut had been an affront to every Agamarian. This could not be tolerated, would not be tolerated. They would find the perpetrators and bring them to justice. One inspector was burning the proverbial midnight power cells at his desk, poring over what evidence they had been able to collect. The answer had to be there somewhere. But he couldn’t find it. He groaned in frustration and put his head down for a moment’s rest.

“One day more,” he said to the empty room, thinking ahead to tomorrow’s events. “Another day, another destiny. This never ending road…these men who did this crime will surely strike a second time…”

And he would not allow that to happen.

Starkillers’ hotel, Salis D’aar, Bakura

He should have been sleeping, but he wasn’t. His mind should be focused on the game tomorrow, but it wasn’t. Nothing was as it should be for Ty Allin. This season had been spectacular not just because the Starkillers had torn up the league until their most recent game but because of the woman who had entered his life.

Lucie Vigo.

“I did not live until today,” he told the sparkling Bakuran skyline, “How can I live when we are parted?”

Even if only for a night.

Coruscant

Anki Rysowt had been a leader for the Senators in darker days. He had held the torch for a world and a fanbase that had not been given much reason to hope. Tomorrow that team and that planet would do him homage as best they could to thank him for everything he had done.

But tonight, one person kept a vigil over his body. She reflected on everything that he had taught her, everything he had brought out in her. The good games, the bad games. Without him, she would have never have done even a quarter of the things she had gotten to do as a Senator.

“Tomorrow you’ll be worlds away. And yet with you my world had started…” Petra Givens whispered to her old friend and mentor.

Trieste residence, Salis D’aar, Bakura

Falene Trieste stood on one of the gardened balconies of the Salis D’aar residence of the Noble House. Her grandfather had insisted that its terraces be designed with an eye for gardening and so they had been. Even in his day they had overflowed with plants and flowers to the point that Fionn Trieste had jokingly dubbed them the Hanging Gardens of Bakura. His descendants had seen to it that they continued to receive the proper care.

Falene was not reveling in the lush foliage around her. Though the win on Hapes had been exhilarating, reality had set in all too quickly. There was still a very long climb ahead of the Miners to even have a hope of making the playoffs. And she knew that one game had not silenced the doubters of the Miner defense, and her in particular. It was going to be a lonely climb.

“One more day I’m on my own. One more day of us not winning?” she asked the night sky.

As usual, it gave her no reply.

“What a rookie year this might have been…” Falene muttered.

Smugglers’ hotel, Eusebus, Euceron

Tover Micjaa looked out at Euceron Stadium in the distance. It stood there, taunting him. She knew what it was calling to him through the night.

5-1. 5-1. 5-1.

“One more day before the Storm,” he murmured, “on the battlefield of Euceron Stadium…”

The underdog in chief needed to find a win, somehow, some way, to keep his season alive. Kaitlyn Vehn was not a forgiving task master.

Peace City, Ylesia

Things had not gotten any better since anti-human sentiment had erupted a month ago on Ylesia. The non-humans that made up the bulk of the planet’s population were restless and they were determined their demands to be heard, to be valued would not be silenced until they were. Things were getting tense to say the least and today’s protest was one of the largest yet. The assembled crowd wanted one thing: action.

Standing before the demonstration, an organizer asked, “When the ranks begin to form, will you take your place with me?”

“The time is now! The day is here!” the crowd of many species responded in many languages, but with one voice.

Patriots’ hotel, Coruscant

Reina Kether had gathered her team together for one last meeting before they went to Andromeda Steel Corp. Field, the den of their oldest and bitterest rivals. They had been going over footage from the season and the message that the head coach had for her team was clear.

This Senators team could be beaten.

The great Patriot captain looked at her team. She saw in their eyes the fire of a team who would do what it takes to win.

“One more day to Revolution,” Kether told her team, “We will nip them in the bud. We’ll be ready for these Coruscanti—they shall wet themselves with blood.”

Storm practice facility, Euceron

Asyell Yan’ii practiced his pick and roll with fellow Bothan Niast Nan’lie. The pair had been drafted together in 271 and knew each other well by this point. It was their sophisticated offensive patterns that was the reason why the Storm were winning and why Yan’ii was having a breakout season. Between the two of them they could finesse the bolo-ball into places before defenders knew what hit them.

“Watch them run amuck,” Yan’ii called.

“Catch them as they fall,” Nan’lie replied, lofting the ball to her teammate.

“Never know your luck when there’s a free-for-all,” Yan’ii replied as he received the bolo-ball and fired it home.

“There a little touch,” Yan’ii said as he flicked the bolo-ball with the tips of his fingers back to Nan’lie ever so lightly.

“Most of them are goners and they won’t catch much!” Nan’lie said as she headered the ball into the back of the net.

Ryell Royal Palace, Ryell, Rydonni Prime

In the halls of power Queen Naathe K’ntarr and Telandro Calrissian stood together among their peers, the rich and powerful of the Core. It was a typically glitzy and glamorous affair that one expected from royalty. The Queen gently tapped her knife against a glass to call the room’s attention to her and bring a silence to the room.

“One day to a new beginning,” Telandro said, raising his glass.

“Raise the flag of freedom high,” their guests replied as they raised their flutes.

“This man shall be my king,” Queen Naathe toasted, lifting her own glass as she curled her arm around her future king’s waist.

For every being in the room, it seemed that night that there was a new world for the winning.

MandalMotors Hall, Keldabe, Mandalore

Mandalore simmered with anger. Someone had dared to kill their Manda’lor in his moment of glory. That was nothing. That was life. That being had used the weapon of a coward, a bomb, but one had to begrudgingly admit that doing so before the entire Mandalorian people took guts. No, hearts of true Mandalorians burned because whoever did this was still out there.

One Mandalorian stood in the plaza before MandalMotors Hall. The proud structure still bore the scars of these recent acts. This Mandalorian had been far away, on Ryloth, hunting as was his way. But when he had heard of what had happened here…his heart had been troubled. He had not slept well. He knew the reason why. He was not supposed to be on Ryloth.

The Mandalorian in his green armor knelt and put one hand on the ground as he bowed his head. “My place is here,” he whispered, “I fight with you.”

Throughout the galaxy, quadrillions of beings waited for the coming dawn. Their hearts and souls each carried hopes, dreams, fears, and worries more than could be counted by even the greatest technologies. Some were held silently, some were spoken aloud, but if one being could hear them all they would collide in beautiful harmony. None of them knew what the next day would bring. There would be winners. There would be losers. There would be greatness. There would be heartbreak. There would be glory. There would be failure. There would be limmie. And the galaxy would keep spinning.

Jed was glad that there was a dome here on Kamino to play Limmie in, because if there wasn’t, things would have gotten waterlogged in a hurry. He remembered the drenched state of things back on Thyferra in 271, but that had just been a freak storm. He couldn’t fathom dealing with the pouring rain all day every day. That would drive him insane.

The game between the visiting Thyferra Force and Kamino Waves was coming down to the last minute tied at 15. Both teams were ready to dig in and try to send this to overtime at worst. Or, perhaps, one team could break free and win this whole thing. The offense for the Force had been clicking like never before this season; they hadn’t scored 15 points on the season until the third week. Alex Renhorn had come to play in this one, racking up a pair of goals, and Nall Futter, the Wroonian forward who had once played with his hometown team before coming here, had finally scored points, adding a bar point and goal to the team total. Malida Worody had two bar points, although she just seemed off in this one. On the other side of things, the defense hadn’t been spectacular, but they hadn’t lost the game yet either, so there was certainly improvement there. The lingering issue was in goal. Kurta Thaar, who had come off the bench the previous week to help lead Thyferra to its first win of the year, had gone down earlier in this one with a broken foot, pushing Jam Tarpals back into the starting role. The Gungan had been shelled all season, and this game was no different. He was struggling, and Jed knew that they wouldn’t win this game if he was left out to dry one more time.

The Waves had the ball with fifty seconds left to play. Baul Sdent missed a tackle on the wily Kaminoan forward, who passed to another one, and then another one on the wing. Jed swore that these Kaminoans all looked alike, with their long necks and suave speech patterns. Leah Nergbolt missed yet another tackle, and this forward was free. Jam was out of position due to his perceived spot being in accordance with a made tackle there, and thus could not stop the ball as it zipped into the goal for three. 18-15 Waves.

“We’ve still got a chance,” Jed said to his team as they swapped out personnel. “This is it. Gotta send it to OT.”

The ball was kicked into play by Tarpals, who had a good leg for this sort of thing, and was picked up in the Front 6 zone. Crell Van Derven held the ball for several seconds before receiving a pick from Paz. The Rodian barely made any contact with her matchup, and Crell was overwhelmed on the play. He fell to the turf and had to throw the ball, or at least roll it, across to Malida. The Togruta was double-teamed, and couldn’t break the trap. Precious seconds passed as the rookie struggled to get free, and when she finally did, there were only twenty three seconds left. She passed off to Crell, who then got hit hard and almost fumbled. He dumped it off to Almert Song, another rookie who had scored a goal in this contest. Song tried to move left, but the Kaminoan defender shadowed him and cut off his route. The rookie then tried to air-mail a pass to Alex in the flat, but it was easily picked off by a defender who ran out the clock.

What a letdown Jed thought to himself. His team had fought hard, but that last possession had been a nightmare. The folks at home were probably wondering why he hadn’t called a timeout there, and he wondered it himself as his team left the field. Could he have come up with a better strategy had he used his one remaining clock stoppage? He knew he had faith in his players to do something with the ball, but that had been pathetic. Either that, or the Kaminoan defense had been that good on the last stand. There were still questions to be answered going into the bye week, and Jed knew that he had lost his one mulligan in the deal he had struck with Pam. Now he needed two more wins in the last two games. A tall order for his team right now, and something Jed knew had to happen if he wanted to keep his job relatively secure for next season. This bye week was going to be huge.